


The Master-Knot of Human Fate

by Unknown



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alchemist Zuko, Alchemy, Alkahestrist Katara, Alkahestry, Best Friends, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dad Sokka, Dad Zuko, F/F, Fade to black sex, Flame Alchemy, Friends to Lovers, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood - Freeform, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood AU, Gay, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Infant Death, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage, Mentions of genocide, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Nomad Aaang, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Queer Themes, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans! Jeong Jeong, Useless Lesbians, all the villains are homunculi, baby Izumi, chimera Ty Lee, era: 1900s, if avatar was fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood, katara does alkahestry, literally if you've seen FMAB, mlm, nomads, sokka is a sniper, this is that but with the avatar characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 119,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: Eight years ago, Zuko and Azula tried to bring their mother back from the dead with alchemy. He lost half his limbs, and Azula lost her entire body. Now, Zuko is 19 and determined to get their bodies back, no matter what it takes. With the help of their childhood friends, and the boy Zuko has been in love with since he was a child, they plan to do just that. But when their search leads them to dark, old secrets with feats of impossible alchemy being done before their eyes and another civil war on the horizon, Zuko thinks getting their bodies back might be the least of their problems now.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Jeong Jeong/Piandao (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), pre azula/suki
Comments: 40
Kudos: 63
Collections: Zukka Big Bang





	1. The East

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Zukka Big Bang! Yes, another one! This one is a Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood AU of Avatar: The Last Airbender. In which Zuko and Azula are the Elrics, and Sokka (and his whole fam) is Winry. My artist is [ragdollnetic](https://ragdollnetic.tumblr.com/) and my beta is [hilsplusterrorss](https://hilplusterrorss.tumblr.com/). Thanks so much to them! Thank you so, so much to Lee, who handled all the modding over on the [Zukka Big Bang blog](https://zukkabigbang.tumblr.com/)! Bless up, y'all. 
> 
> Chapters will be updated every day at 5PM United States eastern time until complete.
> 
> Title comes from a stanza in _The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam:_
> 
> **Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate  
>  I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate  
> And many a knot unravel’d by the Road;  
> But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate.**
> 
> **There was the Door to which I found no key,  
>  There was the Veil through which I might not see.  
> Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE  
> There was - and then no more of THEE and ME.**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Azula are on the hunt for a Philosopher's Stone to get their bodies back when they're attacked by... hommunculi? But that should be impossible! 
> 
> Back home, Zuko's mechanic and childhood best friend, Sokka, repairs his automail arm, while Azula spends time with Sokka's sister, the healing alkahestrist, Katara. But it seems that not everyone in their group is truthful - Katara's boyfriend, Aang, a member of the minority Nomad group, has a secret that just might help the siblings get their bodies back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This tale is generally and loosely based on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, the manga and anime. Here are some notes to orient people who may not be familiar with the universe I'm playing it. Please, read, as it'll make for a more immersive reading experience! 
> 
> 1) This takes place during the 1900s - there's no smart tech, very early electricity, no proper cars (just those hand wound automobiles), lots of fancy clothes from the beginning of 20th century North America and Europe, rotary phones, and everyone is still using horses and carts because that's more widely available (and easier). 
> 
> 2) Alchemists can use the released kinetic energy of the earth's tectonic plates to turn elements and substances into other elements and substances. They must use magic circles and ancient symbols in a an array to aid in this and must be touching or having some sort of contact with what they are transforming. They can only produce the same amount of energy or mass that they use in the first place. The mythical philosopher's stone is the only way to bypass this requirement. Alchemists will use objects that have circles and arrays, colloquially known as transmutation circles. This allows them to perform alchemy on the fly. Here, alchemy is commonly used in the military as a weapon and people can specialize with a specific element or type. 
> 
> 3) Alkahestrists use the potential energy that flows through the earth (what they call the Dragon's Pulse) to turn elements and substances into other elements and substances. This is called alkahestry. Because they don't have to rely on released energy to use their abilities, they can affect matter from a distance as long as they use a symbol to channel their energy. Alkahestrists use 5 pointed shapes like stars, pentagrams, pentacles, and pentagons to channel this energy. Because of its more flexible nature, alkahestry is used for more medical purposes, such as healing. As long as one has a 5 pointed shape drawn to channel the energy and channeling rods (like knives, such as Katara uses) embedded in each of those 5 points to focus the energy, one can heal or utilize alkahestry. 
> 
> 4) Automail is a metal, robotic-esque prosthetic used to supplement lost limbs. Automail consists of metal, wiring, and tubing. It connects directly into a user's nervous system so that they have full control of the prosthetic limb or body part as they would an organic one. While the user cannot necessarily feel pain if a prosthetic is hit, if it is yanked from their flesh and short circuits, it will definitely hurt since the metal is connected to their nervous system. 
> 
> 5) In both the source material and this story, the country of Amestris is circular and has recently come out of a war with their eastern neighbors, of which the country committed a genocidal purge and stole the lands of. There are 5 main military strongholds in each cardinal compass direction and the center of the country, all named for their directions and locations. The stronghold is commanded by the Furher, or leader, and is located in Central City at Central Command, in the center of the country. The military is populated by alchemists who are usually higher ranking, as certified state alchemist, someone who passes the country's rigorous skill tests, start with a rank of major. Regular citizens can be alchemists, but if one is a state alchemist they are duty bound to the military and are nick-named as Dogs of the Military, since they are compelled to obey any and all orders without question. During the aforementioned genocide, alchemists were sent to the front to quickly murder the native people of the lands they were invading. 
> 
> 6) Alchemists have 3 taboos - activities with are frowned upon and not allowed in order to maintain safety and order. The first is that they are not allowed to turn any other substance into gold - this would render the country's money worthless. The second is that they are not allowed to create artificial life; that is, a homunculus. Not only would this contest humans having souls, but it's also generally seen as an impossible feat for the reason that one cannot create a soul or life. The third is human transmutation - using human bodies to create something in alchemy or trying to bring someone back to life from the dead. For the same reasons as homunculi are prohibited, these actions are prohibited as well. 
> 
> 7) A chimera is a being that is two or more animals spliced together. They usually die and it has been thought impossible to get them to speak or act human. In addition, it is seen as immoral, unethical, dangerous, and impossible to splice animals with humans to create a living, thinking chimera with a soul.

_ When he comes back from the Truth, his leg is gone. His leg is  _ gone  _ and he can’t see Azula. Where did she go? Where did Azula go? And mother, where’s mother? The room is so dark and all he can smell is his own blood bleeding sluggishly from the stump under him. Blood is everywhere, all over the floor, on the walls. Where’s Azula?! _

_ Zuko looks up. _

_ In the center of the transmutation circle is… something. There’s a puddle of flesh that smells like rot and up bubbles bones ,and hair and a grinning skull with flabs of skin hanging off its edges. It reaches out to him with a spindly hand and Zuko is screaming.  _

_ “Mom!” he screams. “Mom! Please, Mom!” His voice breaks. But Zuko knows - it isn’t her. “Azula!” he screams, his voice cracking. His sister is gone, the red dress she had on is covered in his blood and lays empty by her shoes on the floor. “Give her back!” Zuko screams at the puddle of flesh, at the monstrosity of their mother. “She’s all I have, give me back my sister!”  _

_ It’s strange, but he can feel her. In the center of his chest, he can feel a tug. It’s Azula, back with that shadow figure -  _ Truth - _ in the bright white place, beyond. When they had touched the transmutation circle, right before he had gone through the portal, Zuko’s leg had disappeared, he remembers now, and Azula…  _

_ Azual’s  _ whole body _ had disappeared.  _

_ “Give her back! Take me! Take anything! Just give me back my sister!” Zuko screams. He tries to stand, falling into the suit of armor his father kept in the study. “Give her back, please, please!” Zuko screeches. He wants his mother back so bad, but he can’t have her. They can’t take Azula too. He’ll be alone. Father doesn’t care about them, Uncle can’t watch them forever. It’s just him and Azula. He needs her. She’s his sister. His  _ little  _ sister. _

_ And he feels her, in the center of his chest. If Azula’s body had disappeared like his leg had, then he just needs to get her a new body. He looks around the room, recoiling from the  _ thing _ in the transmutation circle, blood and gore dissolving the chalk markings on the hardwood. Azula needs a body. Azula needs a body.  _

_ The armor.  _

_ Zuko yanks the armor to the ground with him and uses his blood from the floor to create a seal inside of it, smudged against the metal.  _

_ “Give her back, give her back, give me my sister back, please!” he yells. Alchemy is about intent and having the right tools, knowing the right way to deconstruct something and reconstruct it. He draws a circle to contain the magic, and begins drawing shaky lines into a many pointed star, for the many points of the soul. “Take what you want from me but give her back!” He slams his palm against the seal.  _

_ There’s a flash of blinding light, And Zuko promptly  _ loses _ the arm. Zuko screams. _

* * *

Zuko is still screaming. 

He sits up in bed as he cuts himself off, looking down at his hands. His flesh and blood hand is shaking and the one made from automail, hanging uselessly by his side, glints dully in the morning sun. He checks under the covers and sees one muscular leg and another of metal, dark under the blanket. He gingerly touches around his left eye with his real hand and lets out a shaky sigh when he feels thick scar tissue. This is real life. He’s really awake. 

Zuko can’t get his heart to stop racing. He hasn’t had that particular nightmare in a while. He looks around the room, but Azula isn’t there. He closes his eyes and listens for movement in the house, but there’s no clanking of metal and leather on hinges that follows Azula wherever she goes. She must already be in the shop, bothering Sokka and Hakoda. 

Zuko gets out of bed, puts his automail arm in a sling, and dresses, his clothes black to hide any oil stains his automail might leave behind. He’s not 13 anymore, he reminds himself. He’s all 19 of his years, with half his limbs gone and replaced with metal. Zuko takes his state alchemist pocket watch from its place on the bedside table and tucks into his back pocket, tousles his hair, and makes his way downstairs. 

On the hill, a mile down the road, his and Azula’s old house lays in crumbling ashes from where they burnt it down five years ago, after he got his state alchemist certification. Sometimes, Zuko sees its remains glowering down at them from its spot up above and he remembers how much his mother loved coming out to the house, out of Central and past East City to the little town of Resembool on the outer edges of the country. They hadn’t been able to come out here when Zuko had been small, as Resembool had been close to the Nomadic lands that his father had wiped out in a war of extermination almost a decade ago. 

They stay with Hakoda Imiq and his family now, whose wife died in the conflict, a military doctor on the frontlines helping both the Nomads and the military. The family had lived down the way from them when Zuko’s father had sent his mother with Zuko and Azula out to live in the countryside a year after the war ended. Ursa had been outspoken about the war, and Ozai wanted her out of his hair after the Nomadic peoples’ genocide. 

It makes Zuko sick to think about it. His father, the Fuhrer of the country, responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent people. 

“Spacing out again dumb-dumb?”

Zuko blinks back to himself, already on the last stair. He looks up. And keeps tipping his head back. 

“Morning, Azula,” he yawns. His sister, the 7-foot-tall suit of armor. The armor style is archaic now, all red and black metal and leather, with pointed shoulder guards and a helmet that has a skull shaped faceplate. He thumps her on the chest plate with his real arm in greeting and moves around her. “Bother anybody yet?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a  _ delight _ to have around,” Azula snorts, her voice a tad echo-y as it comes out from her helmet. “Hakoda said so.”

“Hakoda will say anything to get you out of the workshop,” Zuko snipes, moving into the kitchen. Katara usually bakes bread in the morning, before heading to her clinic in town to start the work day. She’d learned alkahestry, like her mother had before her, and had opened the clinic a few years ago. She’s just Azula’s age too, both of them 17 and butting heads whenever they’re under the same roof. But Zuko knows Azula loves the bickering and the fact that Katara has never treated her as anything other than another 17 year old girl that she has to share space with. Others seem to forget the hulking metal body  _ doesn’t  _ house some adult soldier with a weird hobby. 

“I left the workshop because you were  _ screaming _ ,” Azula says, following him into the kitchen. Zuko stops with one hand on the bread knife where it is on the kitchen table the bread loaf sits on. 

“...did anyone else hear me?” Zuko winces. 

“Oh no, just me,” Azula starts, voice sweet as pie. Here it comes. “...and Hakoda, Bato, Sokka, and Mr. Sho from down the street while they were tuning up his leg,” she finishes. Zuko feels his face heat and aggressively cuts two slices of bread for himself, stuffing half of one in his mouth.  _ Sokka _ had heard him? How embarrassing. It didn’t matter that he’d known Sokka since they were kids - he’d started filling out nicely as a young adult and Zuko has  _ eyes _ damn it. Besides, Sokka’s always been goofy and sweet while at the same time extremely intelligent. It had been Sokka who made Zuko’s arm and leg, when he was 13 and Sokka was 12. It had been Sokka who rehabbed Zuko through the first grueling year of learning how to walk and hold things again. 

It had been Sokka who screamed for Katara when Azula had shown up as a newly possessed suit of armor, while his stumps were bleeding out all over their house. 

Zuko may be a  _ little bit _ in love with Sokka, but that’s no one’s business but his own. 

“Grumpy already?” Azula teases him. “How’s the bread, by the way? Katara changed up the recipe a bit this morning and wants some feedback.” Zuko looks up to his sister’s unchanging, expressionless face. He remembers, vividly, that she can’t eat or drink or sleep or even feel the heat of the day as it begins to creep up on them. He swallows hard around the bite of bread in his mouth, fighting the urge to cry. 

“It’s good,” Zuko murmurs. He presses his head against her chest plate and they stand like that for a moment. He can feel it when his sister is serious or when she’s joking, when she’s being a brat because she can or when she’s doing it because she’s upset and doesn’t know how to express it in any other way. Zuko thinks their souls mixed a bit when they went through the doorway of Truth. Azula doesn’t remember anything besides trying to transmute their mother and then waking up in an armored body too big for her to fit in her little bed. “Kinda nutty,” Zuko describes, taking another bite of the bread. “And sweet. If I put butter on it, the salt will pair well.” She likes this, when he describes how something tastes or feels. The first time he’d done it, she’d just turned 12 and had an outburst about how unfair it was that he could taste Bato’s berry cobbler and she couldn’t. Zuko had stood there, watching her armor quiver, realizing Azula couldn’t even  _ cry _ to show she was upset. He’d picked up his cobbler and tasted it, then began telling her what it tasted like. He’d felt her calm, and she’d sat beside him, listening. “I think it could go on the list.”

“I’ll add it - but go try it with butter too, so I can note whether to spread it on first,” Azula demands, fishing out the little notebook Ty Lee had gotten her the last time they’d been in West City on assignment. Now, Azula writes in all the things she wants to try eating once they get their bodies back. 

Getting their bodies back - that’s what plagues Zuko’s mind most days and nights. They committed the Taboo of human transmutation and they’d paid dearly for it - that was the law of Equivalent Exchange: something of equal value must be given in order for something to be gained. It’s the same across all of alchemy and alkahestry. Zuko can’t transmute something into a mass bigger or denser than the starting material - it just doesn’t work like that. They had lost their bodies on fair grounds, but Zuko has sworn to get them back. His sister is going to feel the sun on her face again one day. 

And the only way he can do that is with a philosopher’s stone. If it exists. If they can find it.

Zuko thinks they’d been close in Central City until that  _ thing _ had attacked them. He’s not entirely sure what it had been, but Uncle had sworn to look into it with their cousin, Lu Ten, and to get them a report when they go back to the city. 

“Morning, sleepy head!” 

Zuko feels his face go red and he can  _ feel _ the smugness radiating off Azula as she shoves butter at him from the icebox. He glares at her, a clear  _ don’t you dare _ in his eyes. But when has Azula ever listened to him?

“Oh  _ hello _ Sokka, didn’t see you there,” Azula says, gesturing to the butter and then Zuko’s remaining slice of bread. “Zuzu’s just finishing breakfast.”

“Katara’s new bread is good, right?” Sokka says, coming into Zuko’s line of sight. He has grease smeared across one brown cheek, his blue eyes squinted shut in light of his blinding smile. Zuko swallows hard around his buttered bread and gives Azula a thumbs up - she should definitely add the butter first. And then Sokka, the absolute oblivious disaster that he is, leans in and takes a bite of Zuko’s bread, right from Zuko’s hand, right where Zuko had just bitten it. “Oh, it’s way better with butter. Write that down, Azula.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Azula says primly, snapping her notebook shut and stuffing it inside her armor. “Zuzu already gave me the OK-GO and I trust his taste buds more than your unrefined ones.”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Sokka says, levering a wrench at her. He pokes the back, leather gauntlet closest to him with it. “You know I eat more than anyone else in this place.”

“Yes, you do,” Bato replies, coming in through the door that attaches the workshop to the house. He grins, his own automail arm shining in the morning sun coming through the window. It goes up to his shoulder, just like Zuko’s does, and has been designed and tweaked by Hakoda himself.  _ That’s this family’s love-language, _ Bato had told Zuko when Zuko had asked why Hakoda and Bato had let their son handle Zuko’s automail,  _ and he cares about you, Zuko. _

“Not like that,” Zuko mutters to himself now. He finishes his bread. He can feel Azula smiling even though she has no face to smile with. It’s an off feeling, but he tries to focus on it instead of the fact that  _ he just ate bread Sokka had put his mouth on.  _

“Ready for your tune-ups today?” Sokka asks him, bumping shoulders. “I wanna get them out of the way so we can go over Aang’s for dinner today! Katara’s gonna make that fish and pumpkin pie - with the swordfish and squash? Obviously just squash and veggies for Aang but! We get good food!”

“We always get good food when Azula and I visit,” Zuko reminds him as Bato slices himself some bread too. Zuko pushes the glass tub of butter to him. 

“Well, yeah, cos you two don’t visit enough anymore!” Sokka yelps, throwing his muscled arms into the air in exasperation. Zuko can  _ feel _ Azula rolling her eyes, wherever they are in that startling white beyond. “I know being a state alchemist is, like, a big deal, but c’mon. Your uncle is running you two ragged. Shouldn’t he be nicer cos you’re related?” Sokka asks. He gets some coffee grounds from the cabinet above the sink and starts loading them into the metal contraption Hakoda designed last year that brews the coffee faster than boiling water on the stove top and pouring it through filters above a pot. 

“It’s not that simple,” Zuko says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up at Azula. She shrugs - never one to dumb it down for anybody. But it  _ isn’t _ simple. Ozai had publicly disowned both his children after they committed the Taboo - and when Zuko had qualified as a state alchemist, he’d simply handed both his children off to his older brother, an accomplished alchemic general in the military himself. Uncle Iroh had always been gentle, giving them small missions to accomplish in order to keep Ozai out of their hair, and plenty of time to search for anything that may help them get their bodies back. It had never sat well with Iroh that the order for extermination had happened so soon after his brother had been named Fuhrer. 

Something is  _ wrong _ in Central. Something is wrong in this country. Zuko just doesn’t know what. 

“Our cousin Lu Tuen - remember him?” Zuko says instead. 

“Lt. Colonel Sozin? He’s the best!” Sokka says. Last time Sokka had been in Central visiting them, he’d hit it off with Lu Ten, staying with him, his wife, Carmina, and little daughter, Alita. 

“He’s been helping us out, you know, with work and getting our bodies back,” Zuko explains. 

“How is that going, by the way?” Sokka asks, pouring himself and Bato cups of coffee. “Hey, Pops, does Dad want coffee?”

“Pour him some anyway,” Bato says with a shrug, taking his cup and kissing Sokka’s forehead. Zuko watches, trying not to let the wanting show on his face. He’d do anything for a family dynamic like this.

“Don’t be so obvious, Zuko,” Azula whispers above him, but he can hear the longing in her voice. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, right, like you don’t wish we had that, too,” he replies, easy enough. 

“Your search?” Sokka prompts. How to tell him they were attacked by…  _ something _ in Central City, leading to Zuko’s arm shorting out and being in the dire condition it is now. Zuko nudges Azula for help.

“I’m sure Brother can tell you more while you work on his automail,” Azula says instead and Zuko wishes she had a neck so he could wring it. “Tell him,” she whispers as Sokka hums in agreement and heads back to the shop’s doorway. “He’s smart - as much as it pains me to say it, and he won’t worry excessively like his parents. Pick his brain.” She’s not wrong, Zuko knows. To Bato, Azula says, “What are you doing after you give Hakoda his brain juice?”

Bato laughs. “I’m heading into town to do some food shopping at the market. I’ll probably stop in on Katara and Aang. Feel like joining?”

“I suppose it  _ is _ something to do,” she replies. Her helmeted head looks down to Zuko. “I expect a full report when I return, brother.” And then she makes her way out with Bato.

“You coming?” Sokka yells from the shop. Zuko sighs, finishes his bread, and goes. 

* * *

“What did you do to my automail, Zuko?” Sokka laments above him. 

Zuko is lying on his back on a reappropriated exam table, this one covered with a pillow-top instead of a sheet of paper like the doctor’s office. Around him, the Imiq’s shop is covered in scraps of metal, wire, tubing, and tools. Pinned to the walls are schematics for prosthetic limbs, with writing and math in the corners. Zuko can tell which are Hakoda’s (all harsh lines and angles, practical automail that would allow you to lift a plough if you had to), which are Bato’s (flowing, clear lines, gorgeous automail fit for lords and ladies, swirling designs etched into the metal), and which are Sokka’s (a mix between the two, having learned from both his fathers, to make his armor beautiful but practical, flexible but sturdy). Because of this, Sokka’s automail has always been the best to fight with. 

It had taken  _ ages _ for Sokka to gain any skill in schematic drawing. His first attempts at Zuko’s first set of limbs had been little more than a child’s drawing, though they  _ had _ been children at the time. Now, Sokka unfurls a detailed schematic, every piece drawn in and labeled, with little edits he’s made through the years to improve on the design. 

“This is literally just a sling of metal and bolts,” Sokka mutters, grabbing a wrench from the small work table beside him. Zuko just stares at the ceiling, breathing in the smells of grease and ozone that came with attaching hot wires to metal. “I’m gonna disconnect the nerves,” Sokka tells him and Zuko only braces himself a little bit - it always hurts worse to connect them, anyway. 

There’s a jolt, like accidentally touching a livewire, but then there’s nothing but a dull ache in his shoulder stump. The Truth, or whatever the hell that shadowy white being had been in that doorway beyond, had taken his arm right up to the shoulder. There’d been bone sticking out of the stump, but Katara had taken care of that when she healed him. 

“Okay, I think I have to give you a spare for right now while I  _ reconstruct this _ ,” Sokka tells him. Zukop peaks over to him, rubbing his bristly chin with one hand, tapping his schematic with the other. 

“I don’t mind just laying here for a bit while you work on it,” Zuko tells him. He loves to watch Sokka work, even if it’s just to watch his shoulder blades move under his skin or the thick chords of muscle shift in his arms. 

“Okay, fine by me,” Sokka says, puttering about for tools as Zuko sits up and pulls the sling over his scarred stump, and the socket Sokka had made and attached to his skin and bone to help hold the automail in place. “I can tell you haven’t been using the scar cream Katara gave you, by the way.”

Zuko grimaces. “It doesn’t help me like it helps Bato,” he insists. “It does help my eye scar though…” He trails off. 

“Makes sense, actually,” Sokka tells him, returning to his seat with more wire and metal, plus some sort of mesh Zuko has never seen before. “Bato got partially burned when he lost his arm and your eye…” Sokka stills. 

“Yeah, my eye,” Zuko replies and leaves it at that. 

“But seriously, who did you piss off enough that they shattered your arm, man?” he says, changing the subject to something safer, as always. And Zuko appreciates it so much. Sokka looks up at Zuko with those big, blue eyes, not light blue like a lot of those so-called ‘pure blooded’ Amestrians, but a dark blue, like the ocean Zuko’s only ever seen once, when his mother took them on a trip to Creta when he was seven. 

Can he really lie to those eyes? And Azula had asked, more like  _ ordered _ , Zuko to tell Sokka. Sokka’s brain worked in mysterious ways, but it had always been to Zuko’s benefit. 

As Sokka gets his blow torch and soldering iron, Zuko hesitantly says, “Do you know what a homunculus is?”

Sokka dons his metal mask, picks up the blow torch and starts setting metal alight, pushed away enough from Zuko that he doesn’t risk hurting him. He hmms and haws as he thinks it over. There is some overlap, Zuko knows, between alchemy and alkahestry. Sokka knows a bit about the latter from Katara’s studies and a bit about the former from Zuko and Azula’s. But not enough, it seems, as he isn’t familiar with that concept. 

“Nah, can’t say I do,” he admits as he works. “So what is it?”

“Artificial humans,” Zuko says, snorting. Sokka stops working and looks over to him, eyes wide. 

“Wait, like… kinda like human transmutation?” Sokka correctly guesses. 

“Yep,” Zukko says, flopping back down onto the table. It’s a nightmare. 

“I thought alchemists weren’t allowed to do that!” Sokka says, voice going higher the more distressed he gets. 

“We’re not,” Zuko confirms. “Which is the problem.”

“Tell me what happened?” Sokka asks, always giving Zuko a choice like no one else does, not even Azula most of the time, not even Uncle. 

So, Zuko tells him. 

Zuko tells him of the old woman with long grey hair and the same eyes as Katara, the woman who called herself  _ Lust  _ but Zuko had always called Hama when she ran the flower shop right across from Central Command. He tells Sokka about the person who looked like a boy their age, with shaggy hair and two hooked swords that Zuko could barely keep up with when he turned his arm plating into a sword and pulled its twin from the scabbard at his back. Hama - no,  _ Lust  _ had always called the boy Jet when he worked with her at the store, rearranging those tall, grassy plants he always chewed on, but now she was calling him  _ Envy _ . With his own eyes, Zuko had watched Envy transform parts of his body with flashes of red light. He told Sokka about the round man Zuko had  _ sworn _ Ozai had introduced as his friend Mai’s uncle the last time they met, but had now been referred to as Gluttony by Lust. Once a regular man, his mouth had opened and opened and  _ opened _ until it was as wide as Azula was tall, his jaw bones cracking and growing, spit and blood flying everywhere.

Gluttony had crushed Zuko’s automail arm in his maw and Azula had taken that as their cue to leave. She’d taken the time to draw a transmutation circle and array while Zuko had been fighting, then triggered it when she grabbed him. The ground had exploded into a high wall, separating them from their attackers where they’d cornered Zuko and Azula in the warehouse district. They’d been on their way home from a quick disturbance call in the area that Uncle had thought was innocent enough. How wrong they had all been. 

“And you think they’re… homunculuses?” Sokka asks, switching to the soldering iron. He flips up his metal mask and sticks his tongue out as he works. Zuko pokes him in the side with his regular leg. 

“Homunculi,” Zuko corrects. “And yeah, I do. Sokka, they could  _ regenerate their bodies _ ,” Zuko says, half awe, half disgust. “Hama - ugh,  _ Lust _ , I mean, she was using her own blood as a weapon. She could spurt and hard it into daggers and slash at us. And that Jet kid or whatever, he was shapeshifting! And Mai’s uncle? I honestly don’t think he’s really her uncle. He was… he wanted to…” Zuko trails off, shivering. 

“He wanted to  _ what?”  _ Sokka says, looking over to him. Zuko sits up and looks at the automail in front of Sokka. The skeletal looking base is already there, shiny and new, wires swirling and crisscrossing over it, connecting to other pieces of metal on the table. Sokka sure works fast. 

“He said he wanted to  _ eat _ me,” Zuko says, grimacing in distaste. 

“Dude, that’s  _ seriously _ messed up,” Sokka gasps, putting the soldering iron down. He almost burns himself and the table. “So how does one even  _ make _ an artificial human?”

“You can’t as far as I know - alchemists aren’t allowed to and I didn’t think anyone had figured it out, to be honest,” Zuko admits. “But they could regenerate and had strange powers beyond alchemy and alkahestry. And the red light that sparked every time they healed or used their powers - well, the only thing I can think of that would do that is-”

“A philosopher’s stone,” Sokka finishes grimly. “You think whoever made them used a stone.” Zuko nods. Sokka mulls it over, tapping his chin with a screwdriver he’s picked up in the last ten seconds of Zuko not paying attention to his hands. “Huh. Okay. Any leads? You said two of them worked in Central and the other one was  _ supposedly _ Mai’s uncle?”

“That’s the thing - my  _ father _ introduced him to Azula and I like that. So either this Gluttony has been lying to father or…” Zuko feels sick saying it and for some reason, he thinks of the Nomadic Genocide, “or my father  _ knows _ he’s a homunculus.”

Sokka stills his tapping. “You think… you think the  _ government _ is involved?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko says, squirming. Sokka’s eyes are on him, intense and calculating. He wants Sokka to look at him, sure, but not like that. “Maybe. We told Uncle and he said he’d have Lu Ten snoop around - father pays less attention to him than he does to Uncle.”

“I bet he does,” Sokka murmurs. “Anything else we can work with?”

“Can I see that pencil?” Zuko asks, nodding to the utensil on the table. “And a piece of paper?” Sokka hands them over and Zuko draws crudely with his right hand - he’s a lefty, after all, and that also happens to be his automail arm, so he’s doing what he can. “There. You know what that is?” 

Sokka squints at the sheet of paper and tries not to laugh. “A very sad, circular worm?” he guesses with a snicker. Zuko glares and throws that pencil at Sokka’s head. 

“It’s an ouroboros, asshole!” 

“Oh. So, a very sad, circular worm. I was right!”

“It’s not a worm. It’s a serpent - or a dragon, if you’re looking at alkahestry,” Zuko explains. He points to the drawing he’s made. The dragon has wings and encircles a six-pointed star, swallowing its own tail. “All three of the homunculi had this tattooed to their bodies. Lust had it on her chest, Envy on his thigh, and Gluttony on his tongue.” Zuko shivers again. Gluttony had gotten  _ far _ too close. “Azula thinks if we can find what this is connected to - beyond the alchemical connotation of All is One and One is All - then we may be able to find whoever created them.”

“Maybe ask Katara and Aang?” Sokka suggests, going back to fiddle with Zuko’s arm. “Katara can weigh in with the alkahestry and Aang’s a Nomad. They had their own thoughts on both disciplines, even if they never used either one.”

It’s true, Katara and Aang could definitely help. He wonders if Azula is already ahead of him and asking when she sees the two in town with Bato today. It wouldn’t surprise Zuko if that ends up being the case. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Zuko murmurs. 

“Lighten up,  _ Zuzu _ ,” Sokka teases, knowing Zuko hates it when anyone but Azula calls him that. Zuko glares but Sokka just laughs. “C’mon, it’s funny! I made a pun too - you do flame alchemy more than any other kind! Let me put this aside and get you a spare arm for now. Then we’ll go find Azula, Aang, and Katara.”

* * *

They take the old cart and the Imiqs’ old gelding, Appa , into downtown Resembool where Katara has her clinic and Aang, her boyfriend, helps out. Zuko knows it would be ungrateful and spoiled to say so, but he misses the cars in Central. They’re noisy and smell awful, they’re not comfortable and Azula barely fits in the back seats, but they really do get you where you need to go in no time at all. 

Zuko takes the time to observe Sokka as they go, leaning back in his seat at the front of the wooden cart with Sokka beside him, cussing as Appa gets distracted. His shoulders have gotten so broad, his forearms toned from lifting heavy metal and working with his hands all day. His beard is coming in better than Zuko’s - which just doesn’t exist. Sokka’s wearing a long sleeved tunic in the same blue as his eyes, the laces at his throat undone and showing his collarbones and a bit down his chest. Zuko looks away, swallowing hard. 

“So, Lu Ten’s helping you two out, and your Uncle Iroh, too,” Sokka muses out of nowhere. He snorts. “I don’t know how to feel about your uncle, I’ll be honest. Isn’t he the Flame Alchemist?” Sokka asks, eyes trained on the road and the reins in his hands. 

They don’t talk about this enough and they probably should, what with Sokka’s mother dying in the Nomadic War of Extermination where his uncle fought. 

“Yeah, he’s the Flame Alchemist,” Zuko confirms, looking at the replacement arm Sokka gave him. It’s too heavy - definitely of Hakoda’s design - but it’ll do for now. It’s part of him right now, so Zuko will be able to do alchemy with it no problem. 

The Flame Alchemist, Zuko thinks, and grimaces. The Fuhrer gives out alchemist codenames, and the former Fuhrer had given his uncle that title since he’d been the best at flame alchemy, at the time. It had been considered a difficult form of alchemy as fire was a plasma and not a traditional element. Zuko had gotten a codename too - the Fullmetal Alchemist, even though he was technically only half metal. Apparently, Fuhrer Ozai had a sense of humor - but only sometimes. And only when Zuko was the butt of the joke. 

“The Hero of the Nomadic Lands,” Sokka says, voice tinged with bitterness and Zuko shouldn’t snap, because Sokka doesn’t know, but he snaps. 

“It’s not like he  _ wanted  _ to be!” Zuko yells, going blind with anger on his uncle’s behalf. He deflates at the look of shock on Sokka’s face. “I’m - I’m sorry. It’s just - he was outspoken during the occupation, he even broke down at the end of the war when he found an abandoned, dead Nomad child. They covered it up - said he was ill and didn’t know what he was saying, sent him home not to disgrace the Fuhrer’s good name. It took him almost a decade to get back into Central,” Zuko scoffs. 

Zuko knows the truth. 

Ozai had sent Iroh back to Central after Iroh’s breakdown, and when the war had ended with the Nomads all but wiped off their own ancestral lands, he’d come back home with Ursa and Iroh to contend with. He’d sent his wife and children away to Resembool - without an escort no less - as punishment. He’d sent his older brother to East City Command, a demotion without removing his name and title. Iroh had only managed to get back into meetings at Central Command this year.

“I didn’t know,” Sokka murmurs, bumping his shoulder with Zuko’s. “Sorry man.”

“It’s okay, you  _ didn't  _ know.  _ I’m  _ sorry for snapping at you. But your family and Uncle Iroh are all me and Azula have left.” Zuko laughs, but it’s harsh and bitter. “And we might just end up having only you guys.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka asks, taking a bend in the road a bit too harsh. Zuko grabs Sokka’s arm in an attempt not to go flying and then blushes once they’re stable again. He lets go. 

“Well, Uncle has some pretty drastic aspirations,” Zuko admits. He says it now, when they aren’t in town quite yet so no one risks listening in. “He wants to be Furher.”

“He  _ what?” _ Sokka yelps, eyes wide. 

“Shut up!” Zuko hisses, just in case. “And if he can climb to the top and depose my father, he’ll give power back to parliament and make sure everyone involved in the Nomadic  _ genocide _ gets prosecuted as war criminals.”

“But that means him too!” Sokka says, like Zuko doesn’t know, like Zuko hasn’t had this same argument with his uncle too many times over, Azula yelling herself hoarse beside him. 

“I know!” Zuko yells. Then softer, “I know. And he knows too. He’ll do it, he will. He just needs to get there first.”

“You’re not mad he wants to take over from your dad?” Sokka asks. Zuko laughs. 

“My dad is  _ awful _ , Sokka. He’s evil. He sent my mother and us away, and didn’t even come to her funeral when she died the same year. He ordered the genocide of an  _ entire people _ and allows the people of  _ this _ country to perpetuate racist ideas about them. He  _ burned  _ me,” Zuko spits. He touches his face. 

It was right after Ozai had been sent for by the town’s mayor after the second death of his wife. He’d seen his children, realized what they had done, and burned Zuko’s face in front of Azula. Zuko hadn’t even been able to clutch his face with both hands as Sokka had still been designing his automail. He’d been helpless, and Azula hadn’t known what to do to help. Ozai had left, told them not to bother coming back to Central after a move like that. They’d been disgraced in his eyes. 

“You did this to yourself and you  _ ruined _ your sister,” Ozai had spat. “Stay out of my sight if you know what’s good for you.”

Zuko still had to remind Azula that she wasn’t ruined and was more than her body. And he told everyone who asked what happened to his face that he lost part of his sight as payment for his Taboo. 

“Zuko?” Sokka asks and Zuko shakes himself out of his thoughts. They’re pulling into town, Katara’s clinic the first thing in sight as they near the town center.

“What?” Zuko asks, voice hoarse. 

“You tell Azula she’s more than her body all the time,” Sokka points out. “Which means you’re more than your face. Which, if you ask me, is still a  _ pretty  _ fine face.”

Zuko’s cheeks color. He shoves at Sokka as they pull up to the clinic. “Shut up!” he gripes. “You’re the one who’s all... “ Zuko flaps his hand at Sokka’s whole body, looking for words. “Muscles and stuff!”

“Thanks for noticing,” Sokka laughs. “And look who’s talking! I have to adjust your shoulder socket when I attach your arm again - you got broad.”

“I got  _ broad?” _ Zuko parrots back, incredulous. What in the world is going on here? “You’re stupid.” What else can he really say?

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” Sokka replies, still smiling. He stops the cart in front of a small, brownstone shop, with a hanging sign in green and gold outside that says,  _ Katara’s Medical Alkahestry _ . Sokka tethers Appa to the horse post and gives Zuko a hand down from the cart. “Your leg is off,” Sokka explains when Zuko ties to bat his hand away and he persists. “You grew a bit these past few months. Don’t worry - I know dad isn’t as gentle, so I’ll ask Pops to do your leg adjustments. He just might take a little longer.”

Zuko’s probably imagining the little squeeze from Sokka before he lets go of Zuko’s hand. 

Bumping shoulders, they walk up to the clinic. The sun is out, the day is bright,  _ there’s blood splattered at the foot of the door _ . 

Zuko pushes Sokka behind him. Sokka’s a good shot with a rifle, or six-shooter, but they don’t have any guns right now and Zuko’s the only one who can do alchemy with his bare hands. Someone screams from inside the shop and Sokka pushes past Zuko and storms inside, the idiot. Zuko can only follow. There’s more blood in a trail on the floor, but when they get to Katara’s main medical room, they realize it’s just a client. 

There’s a middle-aged man strapped to the table, his hand mangled. Blood is all over the exam table, almost obscuring the circle-encased stars that Katara had Sokka and her fathers permanently etch onto the top of it for her alkahestry. There are 5 daggers in the point of each star and when Katara slams a blood spattered hand to the center of it, it glows blue and starts to crackle energy over the man’s hand. 

“What’s the racket?” Azula yells, coming down the stairs from the second floor. She must have been snooping around Katara’s medical books, looking for ideas, as always, about their bodies. 

“Aang, get Azula  _ out _ of here and - Sokka?” Katara asks. Her curling, brown hair falls into her face, the beads that usually keep it in place too loose from the commotion to do so. Her blue dress is covered by a bloodstained, white apron. “Sokka get Zuko out  _ now!” _

Katara isn’t being rude, wanting the Sozin siblings out of her clinic. It’s just that she knows neither of them react well to excessive amounts of blood and gore. Not  _ after _ . 

“I - I’ve gotta…” Zuko starts, feeling his vision going black at the edges. He stumbles away from Sokka’s warm hands, scrabbles against the wall he’s near, and runs back outside. He hears clanking and a soft swear as Azula follows him out. Zuko turns his face up to the sun, but he can’t even see it right now, he’s so distressed. His stomach heaves and he leans up against the cart, ignoring Appa nosing at his clothes as he vomits into the grass. 

He can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t stop thinking about it. 

* * *

_ “Katara!” Sokka yells. “Dad! Pops!” He’s only 12, but he looks like he’d fight off Azula in her new armored body if he had too. “Who are you? What did you do to him? Where’s Azula?” Sokka screams, reaching up for Zuko. Sokka’s in a sleeping shirt and underwear, roused from his sleep in the middle of the night when Azula knocked. Zuko reaches out to him, arm and leg dripping blood onto the floor by the front door.  _

_ Zuko weakly touches Azula’s chestplate and he can’t stop thinking  _ I did this, this is my fault, I did this, I did this, _ as he says, “Azula…” _

_ “Stop moving brother!” Azula snaps. There are no tears, just a strained, young voice emerging from an empty helmet. What has he done? What the hell has Zuko done? _

_ “...Azula?” Sokka asks, a hand on her armored arm. Zuko is vaguely aware of the helmeted head nodding.  _

_ “Sokka, what’s… Dad!” Katara screams. “Papa!” She skids over in her sleeping gown, a year younger than Sokka, tired eyes bright. “What happened? Who’s this? Where’s Azula?” _

_ “That  _ is _ Azula,” Sokka hiccups. When did he start crying? Zuka can’t remember. His stumps  _ ache _.  _

_ “Brother won’t stop bleeding,” Azula says, upset in her voice. Katara stares up at the armor, several feet taller than her. “Please, help him. Help him.” _

_ “Put him down,” Katara says. She’s only just in her third year of learning alkahestry. She’s a great student, learning from one of the Xingese immigrants in town. But she’s 11 and she’s never worked with bone before. Hakoda comes down the stairs and smothers a shout. “Dad, I need chalk and my alkahestry knives. Now!” Katara snaps at him. He trips going back up the stairs, but he goes.  _

_ Zuko feels Azula lay him gently on the floor. His head is pillowed by something soft and warm. When he opens his eyes again, Sokka’s big, blue ones filled with tears are looking down at him. Maybe if he dies, he’ll deserve it, Zuko thinks,  _

_ When the chalk and knives come, they’re with Bato. Hakoda moves back them, throwing a coat and boots on, and goes up to the house.  _

_ “Mother…” Azula says softly after him. Hakoda turns back, a shape in the night. Zuko still doesn’t know what expression had been on his face. But Hakoda had nodded to them and continued up the hill to their home.  _

_ “What happened?” Bato asks, voice forced into calm.  _

_ “I don’t know,” Katara snaps, her hands shaking as she takes her materials. “Sokka, lay him down. You can keep his head in your lap if you want. Someone should hold him.” Sokka and Bato maneuver Zuko to the floor. Under his stumps, Katara draws her alkahestry stars in their circles, stabbing a knife through each point into the wood of the floor. She pulls his bandages off and he cries out, the bloody scabs that  _ had  _ been clotting pulling off his already tender skin. “Hold on, Zuko,” she mutters. She touches her stars.  _

_ Zuko doesn’t remember much besides tasting blood and screaming. He knows Bato, Sokka, and Azula had to hold him down as Katara accelerated the scarring process to stop the bleeding, careful to preserve the nerves - the only advanced technique she’s learned since it had to do with her family’s automail business. Bits of jagged bone that had been left sticking out of his stumps crack off and the pain is enough to render Zuko unconscious.  _

_ He wakes up two days later, Sokka on one side of his bed, Azula’s armored body on the other side. They’re still in the Imiqs’ house, in the spare bedroom on the second floor with a perfect view of their house on the hill.  _

_ “That looks like a pipe,” Azula says blandly from his left, by the window, but not directly in front of it so she couldn’t see the house.  _

_ “It’s his new arm!” Sokka insists, flapping his little notebook at Zuko’s sister. “I’m getting better at drawing, but Dad and Pops are still better at it than me. You’re so - Zuko?”  _

_ Zuko blinks fully awake. He hurts, but not as much as before. He has no left arm and no right leg.  _

_ “Sokka,” Zuko whispers, mouth dry. “What… what happened?” _

_ “Katara healed you with alkahestry,” Sokka says, putting his notebook down on the bed. Zuko looks up at the ceiling, unable to face his friend. Sokka takes one of his hands, and Zuko lets him. “We had Korin - Katara’s teacher in town - come in and check on you, but she said Katara did really well and to let you rest. Dad… Dad went up to the house and uh, he and Pops buried - they buried-” _

_ “They buried our mom.  _ Again _ ,” Zuko finishes.  _

_ “In the backyard of your house,” Sokka confirms. “They said you two can stay with us. Pops sent your Uncle Iroh a missive.” He squeezes Zuko’s hand. “Azula told us what happened.” _

_ Zuko cries then, because he’s to blame, isn’t he? He’s the older brother and look what he did - led his sister with false hopes and lost her body.  _

_ Later, Katara will yell at the both of them, tell Zuko and Azula she never tried something so foolish when her and Sokka’s mother died. She doesn’t mention that she’d only been seven, Sokka eight, and she’d only known the basics of alkahestry - not alchemy. She yells at them until Bato pulls her close and she bursts into tears, shaking.  _

_ “I thought you were going to die, Zuko,” Katara sobs. “And I didn’t know where Azula went.” _

_ “I’m right here,” Azula says, sitting by his bed still, with a book in her hand this time. She hasn’t said much, which isn’t like his sister at all.  _

_ “And now she’s going to be taller than me until you two get your bodies back,” Katara says, glaring at the suit of armor. Zuko knows she’s trying to make Azula feel better, give her something to push back against. It works, mostly.  _

_ “Bold of you to assume I won’t be naturally taller than you by the time I get my body back,” Azula shoots back. It’s only when they’ve been left alone for the afternoon that Azula says, “Zuko. I can’t feel anything.” _

_ Zuko stills. Then he sits up so fast he feels something rip in his arm. He doesn’t care. What does she  _ mean _ she can’t feel anything? _

_ “What do you mean, Azula?” he asks. Her voice sounds so tinny and small coming from such a large, metal helmet.  _

_ “I… I can’t feel the sunlight,” Azula says, voice low. She sticks a hand into a ray that’s coming through the window. “I can’t feel when the wind blows in through the open window. I can’t smell Bato’s cobbler baking.” She turns her head back to him, metal squeaking against metal. Zuko makes a note to ask Hakoda for oil. “I haven’t slept, but that’s only because I haven’t gotten tired. I haven’t gotten hungry. I don’t have to go to the bathroom.” In the eye slits of the skull faceplate, twin orangey, red flames bore into Zuko’s soul. “I can’t  _ feel _ anything physical.” _

_ Zuko wants to throw up.  _

_ “I’m going to get our bodies back,” Zuko swears, even as he sees red blossom across his bandages. “I’m going to get them back, Azula. I swear. I swear.” When Hakoda comes in with Bato, Katara, and Sokka later, Zuko speaks over their cries of concern at his bleeding stumps. “How long is the rehab for my automail going to take?” he asks.  _

_ Bato and Hakoda share twin looks of pinched consternation, but Zuko doesn’t care.  _

_ “Three years, for full rehabilitation,” Hakoda estimates.  _

_ “I’ll do it in one,” Zuko snarls.  _

_ And he does.  _

_ At 14, he becomes the youngest state alchemist Amestris has ever seen. _

* * *

Zuko heaves again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. As he stands up in the noontime sun, he just catches sight of Azula crashing to the ground by Appa and the cart in a clang of metal and leather. 

“Azula!” Zuko yells, running over to his sister. He flips her suit of armor over and chokes when he sees her fiery eyes are dark. There’s no light whatsoever in them. “Azula!” he yells again. 

“What happened?” Sokka says, sliding into the grass beside him. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Zuko repeats, voice high and reedy. “Help me take off her helmet.” Together, he and Sokka remove the spiked, skeletal helmet to reveal Azula’s empty armor. There’s nothing inside, nothing but the soul of a 17 year old girl tethered by a blood seal at the of her armor. Zuko slaps his hands together to instigate a transmutation, then snaps his fingers to produce a flame he holds in his fingertips. Uncle Iroh has a special pair of gloves with the flame transmutation circle embroidered on it to be able to do the same thing. But ever since Zuko had been through the doorway of Truth and seen that white shadow, he’d been able to transmute without a circle. 

Azula’s blood seal is intact. There are no blemishes, no scratches that would have released her soul prematurely. Zuko fears he’ll pass out from hyperventilation, he’s so disturbed. What the ever loving fuck is going on? What’s happening to his sister?

“... is there a reason why Sokka has my head and you’re poking about my insides, brother? I may be made of metal but I  _ am _ still a lady.”

“You asshole,” Zuko breathes in relief, collapsing against the leather inserts in her chest plating. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Azula says, her voice gravelly and grimacing. “But I don’t like that it happened again.”

“Again?” Sokka asks, carefully fitting her helmet back onto her armor. He’s always been gentle with Azula and it makes Zuko want Sokka even more. Sokka’s never treated her as anything but a close family friend, a girl younger than him and needing his guidance and protection. Zuko’s a sap. 

“It happened, once, the night we got attacked in the warehouse district in Central,” Azula admits grudgingly, standing up with a creak. She shakes out her limbs, making sure her soul has connected back correctly. “It’s why we didn’t notice those  _ monsters _ coming - I lost consciousness and Zuko was trying to get me to respond.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zuko says, again, standing too. He offers Sokka a hand up, feeling warm as their skin touches. Zuko can’t be imagining it now that Sokka squeezes his hand before letting go. He thumps Azula on the chest plate, the closest thing level to his head. 

“This is why you two are getting desperate about the stone,” Sokka says in realization. 

“Yeah,” Zuko admits. 

From the doorway, Aang pops his head out, looking sheepish. He’s dressed in traditional Nomadic robes - all neutral yellows and burnt oranges, looped around his body in a dizzying array only he and Katara could get right. Zuko still stares, sometimes, at Aang’s bald head and those blue tattoos on his scalp, arms, and legs. It’s tradition for the Nomadic peoples to tattoo their young adults as a coming of age token - even the women shaved their heads bald for the process. For the Nomads, the age of enlightenment is 13.

_ Your father killed them all, _ Zuko’s mind says as Aang waves to them all and tells them he’s started lunch if they want to come inside.  _ Not all of them,  _ Zuko thinks back venomously. Plenty of Nomads like Aang and the locals in Resembool, had run inland to Amestris, looking for refuge. In Resembool, they’d only stayed in slums the first year before the town accepted them and helped them build homes of their own, build places of worship to their god, the Avatar, helped them start businesses and continue their lives. Zuko knows it’s not like that everywhere. Resembool may be one of the exceptions, mabe up north near the Briggs mountain range too. 

“Yeah, let’s go in and help with lunch,” Sokka says, nudging Zuko in the direction of Aang and the clinic. “If Aang came to get us, then that means Katara’s patient is resting and she’s cleaned up.”

“Yeah,” Zuko mutters. “Lunch.”

* * *

Katara’s pumpkin and herring pie is amazing, as always. Azula only complains a little, but that’s to be expected since she can’t really participate in the eating part of the process. Still, Zuko can tell by the tone of her voice and her armor’s more relaxed posture that she’s enjoying the back and forth with Katara, Sokka’s and Aang’s quips only fuelling them. The girls will argue over everything and anything, but at the end of the day, Zuko still remembers when someone at the train station had made a rude comment about freaks in armor at the train station when Sokka and Katara were dropping them off last. Katara had given the man a piece of her mind about being rude to young women they didn’t even know. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Katara had told Azula, patting one of her gauntlets. “You can tell  _ he’s _ never going to get a woman to fall in love with him, since he doesn’t know how to speak to one.” And Azula could have drop-kicked the man across the train tracks, but with Katara, she didn’t have to. 

The two are closer than either wants to admit. 

“We'll clean up since you two cooked,” Zuko says, standing and taking his plate. Sokka follows suit, taking plates from Katara and Aang. “C’mon, Azula. You too.”

“I don’t even eat!” Azula griped, but she followed, leaving Aang and Katara to put the table they used to eat at back in the corner. 

In the little kitchen on the second floor of the clinic, Zuko bumps Azula as he washes dishes and Sokka dries. “Did you talk to them?” About the homunculi, he doesn’t have to say. 

“Well, after the five minute lecture from Katara about how  _ reckless _ we are, and after dodging Aang’s sad, doe-eyes, we came to the conclusion that neither of them knew anything that could help,” Azula huffs. Then she straightens and adds, “And that Aang is lying.”

Zuko almost drops the plate he’s scrubbing with a sliver of soap and the metal bristle brush they use for dishes. 

“What?”

“Aang doesn’t lie,” Sokka says, waving a hand and flapping the little, linen dish-towel he’s using to dry a cup with, “unless it’s  _ really, really _ important or has to do with Nomadic tradition he’s not allowed to talk about.”

“Well, maybe it’s both,” Azula guesses, shrugging and clanking. 

Zuko goes to respond when he hears it -  _ yelling _ . The more yell-y of the five of them is Katara, but everyone who’s usually on the end of that is right here, with and including Zuko. He shuts off the water at the sink and Sokka puts his dishtowel down with a frown. Together, with Azula cussing softly as she tries to move with creaking, they make their way to the top of the stairs and peek down. If Zuko sits on the top stair, he can see Katara and Aang in the exam room, away from the patients’ closed room at the back of the clinic. 

Katara is yelling at  _ Aang _ . 

“Well, that’s a first,” Azula mutters, finally crouching beside them. Sokka sits on the top stair too, and together, the three of them watch and listen. 

“You just lied to her face!” Katara says, gesturing up the stairs. “I could see it, Aang. You recognized at least  _ some _ of what she was talking about. She’s our  _ friend. _ ”

“I understand that, Katara, I do,” Aang says. He’s two years younger and almost a head taller, but right now, he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. “But there are things I just - I just  _ can’t _ share with you all.” He rubs the back of his neck, shoulders hunched in, looking away from her. Katara’s forehead is crumpled into a vee of anger. She takes a deep breath and lowers her voice, but Zuko and the others are close enough on the stairs that they can still hear her. 

“What she’s talking about - it’s Nomadic tradition?” Katara asks. Her words are short and tight; Zuko can tell she’s really reigning in her irritation. He’s proud of her. But also wishes she could show that kind of restraint with people  _ other _ than her current romantic partner. Like Zuko, maybe. He’d love to not get lectured by her. “I thought the Nomads weren’t allowed to study alchemy or alkahestry.”

“We aren’t,” Aang agrees, eyes still on a wall to the right of them. Katara sighs and goes up to Aang, gently taking his face in her hands. Zuko feels a pang in his heart. He doesn’t like either of them like that - he’s gay, as it is - but he wants that soft interaction with someone he loves. 

“Then how do  _ you  _ know about it?” she asks. Huh. Zuko hadn’t even thought of that. Leave it to the Imiqs to  _ actually _ use their brains. 

“Because - because  _ Gyatso _ was studying it. During the war.” Zuko gasps at the same time Katara does. He feels Azula sitting with tension and trepidation behind him and Sokka. Sokka takes his hand and Zuko can’t even be elated at it. Why was Aang’s foster father, a Nomadic monk who should have scoffed at the arcane arts,  _ studying _ them? “Before the Amestrian soldiers dragged him away, he gave me his notes. He said - he said that I couldn’t show any of the Nomads because it’s against our laws and that I had to keep it safe until someone came along that could fix Amestris.”

Fix Amestris? So one of the Nomadic monks realized there was something wrong in Zuko’s country too? Wonderful. 

“What does that mean?” Katara asks. Zuko feels Sokka lean forward a bit more to get a better look at his sister’s face. She drops Aang’s face and holds his hands instead. She’s long since taken off that bloody apron and stands in her blue, billowy dress, it’s sleeves embroidered with white flowers. 

“I don’t know,” Aang admits and Zuko feels crushed with disappointment. “I’ve only ever looked in that notebook once, and I saw some of what Azula said - the, uh, homunculus? There was a red stone he drew in it. But, I didn’t understand what it said. I mean, I could read it, but it made no sense!” Aang takes his hands back and throws them up in the air. 

Code, Zuko surmises. That’s why Aang couldn’t understand what Gyatso had written. Alchemists, and even alkahestrists at times, coded their research. 

“And I’m not even supposed to know about any of that stuff,” Aang continues, pacing back and forth near the staircase. Katara watches him, chewing her lip. “It’s against everything I was taught. A sin! And I know they’re our friends, but I can’t just  _ aid _ in their alchemy!”

“You help me here, in the alkahestry clinic,” Katara points out, voice a little snippy at Aang’s seeming lack of logic. Zuko agrees with her. But then, Aang is shaking his head. 

“No, it’s not the same, Katara. The only principles I understand about alkahestry are what I put together by watching you. And you’re not - you’re not doing the same thing. Here, you’re healing people, trying to save lives.” Aang grimaces. “They tried to play god - they tried to bring their mother  _ back to life _ .”

It stings - it really stings. Zuko has known Aang since he was seven and Zuko was 11. Zuko’s mother had already been dead by then, the Taboo not yet done. Afterward, the Nomadic people in their town had regarded Zuko and Azula with a mix of horror and pity. Now Zuko knows why. Still, Aang had never verbally passed judgement. 

“If you had the opportunity to bring Gyatso back, wouldn’t you?” Katara wonders, voice teary in their defense. Zuko can’t take his eyes off the two of them. He can hear Sokka swallow hard beside him, Azula’s breaths coming out shaky. 

Aang sits on the floor and holds his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Katara joins him. 

“No,” Aang says, looking up with tears streaming down his face. And Zuko knows it’s the truth. “No, I  _ wouldn’t _ . I really,  _ really  _ wouldn’t. Because it goes against  _ everything _ our god, the Avatar, stands for.” 

“Oh, Aang,” Katara says softly, hands over her mouth, because Aang  _ means _ it.

“There are four incarnations of the Avatar, corresponding with the four traditional elements,” Aang says, wiping at his eyes. “Roku is the fire god of the south. Kuruk is the water god of the north. Kyoshi is the earth god of the west. And Yangchen is the air god of the east. When all four gods come together, they create the fifth element - spirit, and that spirit is the Avatar. There is  _ one _ tenet the Avatar holds above all others - and that’s  _ to respect all life _ . And I love them as my dear friends, but Zuko and Azula didn’t do that.”

Zuko smarts at that, gritting his teeth. But Aang isn’t wrong about that either. 

“They were kids,” Katara tries. 

“I would have given the same answer at the age of seven when you all met me,” Aang counters. “And I understand I was raised in this tradition, but that should explain why I can’t just leave it behind.” He hangs his head. “Giving them Gyatso’s notes would be aiding them in their disrespect of life. Katara, we’re vegetarians, we’re pacifists - that’s how Amestris destroyed us. We don’t take this lightly. So when Gyatso did what he did…”

“What happens, if a Nomad practices the arcane arts?” Katara asks, wrapping an arm around Aang. Zuko’s stomach flips. He doesn’t want to know, because he’ll feel worse trying to convince Aang to  _ give them those notes _ . 

“When we die, Nomadic tradition says that the Avatar blesses you with reincarnation too. We follow the cycle of the four gods and reincarnate between fire, water, earth, and air. But if we transgress, like Gyatso did…” Aang swallows hard and starts to cry again. Zuko knows.  _ Don’t say it _ , he thinks, his heart clenching,  _ please don’t. _ “We die a permanent death. Gyatso isn’t in the sunshine, or the rain, or the harvest grounds, or the gentle breeze that comes through in autumn. He’s  _ gone _ for what he did.”

“I’m sorry,” Katara says. 

“That’s nonsense,” Azula mutters behind him and Zuko elbows her. 

“No, it’s not,” he replies softly. Zuko stands up, shedding Sokka’s hand. He walks down the stairs, Aang and Katara looking up in surprise. “We didn’t,” he says. “We didn’t respect life.”

Aang goes red. “You heard that?”

“We heard everything,” Azula snaps behind Zuko, following him down the stairs. “And if you think we won’t just find where you hid that-”

_ “We won’t,” _ Zuko insists, putting out an arm to stop her from going to Aang and looming threateningly over him. “We won’t,” he repeats, voice stern. 

“But,” Azula starts. She cuts herself off and storms down the rest of the stairs, stomping out the front door. 

“Let her go,” Zuko says when Katara stands and turns to the door. “She’s understandably upset. That notebook might have the answers to getting our bodies back. But we won’t force it from you Aang, not like our father forced your people to flee. We aren’t like him.” Zuko lets out a breath. He wants the notebook so bad. He understands why Azula is so upset but they can’t, they  _ can’t _ end up like their father. “We didn’t respect life,” Zuko says again. “But now we do. So if you can find it in yourself to help us, please. Please do.” Aang frowns, but Zuko raises a hand, stopping him from speaking. “Take your time. Think about it.” Zuko chuckles darkly. “You know, I went into this just wanting our bodies back, but with everything that’s popping up now, I’m starting to think we can’t get them back until we settle whatever the hell is wrong in Amestris.”

“You feel it too, then?” Aang asks, eyes lighting up in excitement. 

“Feel what?” Zuko asks, playing with the end of his braid so he doesn’t have to look at Aang and show the young man his utter disappointment. A hand comes from behind him and takes his hand from his hair. It’s Sokka, eyes wide and sympathetic. He squeezes Zuko’s hand and then just. Holds it. Zuko is shorting out so hard that he almost misses what Aang says next. 

“It feels wrong - sick, almost. It’s felt like that since I got here,” Aang muses. 

“What did you say?” Zuko says. 

“It feels wrong. In the earth - you said alchemists use the tectonic shifts to power their alchemy, right? And alkahestrists use the uh - what’s it called Katara?”

“Dragon’s pulse,” Katara tells him, smoothing her hand over his bald head. 

“Yeah, that, to do alkahestry… ah! I shouldn’t even  _ know _ this stuff!” Aang groans, head hanging. 

“I have a friend from Xing,” Zuko says, putting pieces together. “Toph. She’s a blind alchemist that uses her alchemy to see. She’s very in-tune with the earth because of that and she said  _ the same thing _ .”

“... Toph Beifong?” Aang asks and Zuko jolts, letting go of Sokka’s hand. What the fuck?

“You know  _ Toph?” _ Zuko asks incredulously, looking at Aang and Katara, both as surprised as he is.

“And her, uh, bodyguard, that warrior with the white face paint - Suki?” Sokka says beside him. Zuko turns to Sokka, who’s red up to his ears. Oh no. “Yeah, uh, what was it, three summers ago? They came to Resembool looking for you and Azula. I didn’t realize they actually  _ knew _ you two. A lot of people who want to meet you two come here looking.”

What the hell had Zuko been doing in the summer three years ago? He’d been 16 and - “Oh, yeah, Azula and I were on assignment in West City with General Bumi.” 

It had been nice to see Mai and Ty Lee, not yet together romantically. General Bumi, whose men called him The King, is a close friend of his uncle’s and in charge of the western military post in Amestris. He’s a skilled alchemist himself, making a name for himself as the Crystalline Alchemist - from the way he transmuted what he touched into hard crystal before he lobbed it at you and lodged it in your skull. Zuko personally thinks Bumi is too old and unhinged to be a general at such an important border post, but he did get things done. And the muscled old man, with a lazy-eye and hunched, back  _ also  _ had time to moon the Aerugians over the border every morning at half past six. 

“Toph mentioned the earth felt weird here that summer,” Aang continues. “We bonded over it, since I could feel it too.”

“Yeah, and Sokka  _ bonded _ with Suki,” Katara teases, laughing as her brother splutters. Zuko hates the little flare of jealousy he gets. Sokka isn’t  _ his _ , he has  _ no right _ to get jealous. But there’s disappointment there too - Sokka likes  _ women _ . 

“It was just for the summer!” Sokka argues, peeking over to Zuko, guilty almost. “She had automail arms, so I spruced them up a bit. And we… carried on.” Sokka rubs the back of his neck. “But the summer ended and, ya know, she asked if I wanted to travel with them, but this is home.”

“You’re always bothering me to come traveling,” Zuko points out. So why hadn’t Sokka taken the opportunity? 

“Yeah, but that’s  _ you _ ,” Sokka insists. It makes no sense to Zuko. So, he’d dated Suki that summer and spruced up her automail…

“Wait a second, you gave her the  _ fan hands?”  _ Zuko yelps. Aang and Katara groan. 

“I knew that was a bad idea,” Katara mutters. 

“They did look cool, though,” Aang admits, nudging her with a sunny smile. At least he isn’t crying anymore. 

“Those things are solid, razor-sharp metal that flip out from her wrists, and they are the  _ coolest _ thing I’ve ever made,” Sokka says, sighing dreamily, hands folded under his chin. He squints at Zuko. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like them.”

“Not when they were aimed at me,” Zuko admits. Whatever. Sokka is allowed to have girlfriends and be happy. One day, he’ll get married and Zuko will be here, still trying to get his body back. Or dead. That’s a real possibility. He shivers. “I think that was the summer I tried to date Mai,” Zuko says, changing the subject. 

“Tried?” Aang asks, standing and helping Katara up. 

“She’s a whole lesbian,” Zuko tells them, because Mai has told him to spread it around so people leave her alone. “And I am very much not into women,” Zuko continues. Has he addressed that with them yet?

“We’ve noticed,” Katara says with a grin, but it’s kind. Oh god, is Zuko that obvious about his little crush-perhaps-love of Sokka? 

“Whatever,” Zuko says, trying not to blush at her. “I think after that is when I dated Jet, in the fall when I went back into Central for a bit.” Sokka’s hand is on his shoulder, turning Zuko to him. He doesn’t want Soka to touch him right now mostly because Zuko’s crush - love? - has become so salient to him. But Sokka’s eyes are wide. “What?”

“You dated  _ Jet?  _ The one who shapeshifted and got called Envy that tried to kill you?” Sokka says. He snaps his fingers in Zuko’s face. “The  _ homunculus?” _

“Oh,” Zuko says, connecting the dots. It had been a summer fling and  _ that  _ particular version of Jet had always worn pants - they were 16 and Zuko wasn’t doing anything too serious at that age, still hadn’t to be honest - so he didn’t know if  _ that _ Jet had the ouroboros tattoo like Envy had while wearing his face. “You know, I’m not sure if he was a homunculus already or if Envy stole someone’s face now and  _ that  _ was the real Jet…” Jet could be  _ dead _ now. Zuko doesn’t see Envy allowing someone who knew their identity had been stolen to run around. 

“That’s a little disturbing,” Aang admits, frowning. “The homunculus part - not you liking men. The monks always say, love who you love!” And he grins widely, Katara smiling sweetly and looking at him with softened eyes.

“Ain’t that just the way? Ya know Haru? Runs the little second-hand goods shop across the street?” Sokka asks, throwing one arm around Zuko’s shoulders, waving in the same direction as the shop with his other arm. Zuko nods. Haru is his age and they’d done some school together in the town schoolhouse when they were little. “I dated him the fall after Suki. It didn’t last and boy did I luck out, because have you  _ seen _ his hideous moustache?” Sokka laughs.

Zuko is shorting out again. Sokka’s into  _ men _ too? So maybe it’s just Zuko he doesn’t like, then. That’s just  _ perfect _ . 

“I mean, I don’t know how his husband kisses him-” Sokka continues, but Zuko cuts him off. 

“He’s married?” he asks in shock. But he shouldn't be shocked, not really. Zuko’s already 19. His mother had married his father at 20. He knows Hakoda had married his first spouse, Kya, at Sokka’s age. People married young here, especially after the Nomadic conflict when no one knew when their next day would be their last. 

“Yeah, to Teo, the town librarian,” Sokka says, his arm sliding off Zuko’s shoulders, his face pinching a bit. “It was… earlier this year, I guess, right Katara?” Sokka asks, turning to his sister. Katara nods in agreement, rubbing her chin as she thinks back. 

“Yeah, the trees had just gone into bloom. So it was the start of spring,” Katara confirms. 

“There ya go,” Sokka says, pulling away from Zuko into himself. “Uh, do you never think about that?” Sokka trails off. He rubs the back of his neck and Aang and Katara take a step away from the two of them together. 

“I mean… do you?” Zuko counters. He knows Aang and Katara do - they’ve talked about it enough, that they’ll probably get married once Aang is Sokka’s age. Zuko never allowed himself to hope for something like that. He’s been so focused on getting his and Azula’s bodies back. To have  _ Sokka _ of all people ask… Zuko realizes he’s never asked his friend about that and it probably makes him a bit of a bad friend. But he doesn’t want to know, not right now, when he realizes he’d like to be with Sokka, after all this. No more alchemy, no more terror, just automail in the shop attached to the house, burnt coffee in the morning, and Sokka smelling like motor oil and automail grease beside him in bed. 

“I… yeah, I do,” Sokka says, looking at Zuko from the corner of his eye. 

“If you could, when would you?” Zuko finds himself asking. Oh, that’s just setting himself up for pain.  _ Nice one, Zuzu _ , he thinks in a voice far too like Azula’s. 

Sokka’s quiet, mouth pursed in thought, and then he says, “Well, when would  _ you _ if you could?”

When would  _ he? _ Zuko’s not sure, but one thing he  _ is _ sure about… “Anything I do would have to be after I get my and Azula’s bodies back,” Zuko says. He shrugs. “I don’t think I can promise myself to someone like this.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way you are!” Sokka says sharply. “Plenty of people have automail limbs, Zuko.”

“True,” Zuko admits, a little startled at Sokka’s outburst. He doesn’t like that Aang and Katara are just  _ watching _ this go down, but he’s not going to send them out of their own shop. And he doubts Katara would let him - he’d be in for more than just a scolding and he likes all his limbs, artificial or not, where they are, thanks. “But not everyone lost them by committing the Taboo - and that’s an extra mark on me and my soul. I can’t just leave my sister’s body out in that limbo either. So it’s not just my body I mean, Sokka, it’s my mind and soul too. I’m fractured like this and I’d just be wandering around looking for answers, leaving someone behind.”  _ Leaving you behind _ , Zuko doesn’t say. “So there, now answer me - when did you, uh, ever think of it?”

“I guess after you get your body back too,” Sokka responds, looking him in the eye. 

Wow, Zuko thinks, was he really putting Sokka’s life on hold by involving him in his search for his and Azula’s bodies? Zuko feels guilty. 

“You know, you can - that is, if being involved in my and Azula’s search is really putting a damper on things for you…” Zuko trails off. 

And Sokka’s mouth opens, his brow furrowing in confusion. Aang giggles and Katara hushes him. Zuko feels like he missed something big but he isn’t sure what it is and this whole conversation has taken a turn in a direction  _ away _ from what he’d been trying to get at. 

“No, Zuko, it’s not putting a damper on anything,” Sokka says, words careful and measured. But he’s shaking his head and muttering to himself. 

“It’s okay, Sokka,” Katara says, leaving Aang’s side and going to her brother’s. Zuko steps away from the siblings' heated whispers and goes over to Aang. The 15 year old is looking at him with  _ way _ too much sympathy and Zuko  _ does not _ like that. 

“Hey, knock it off, I’m four year older than you,” Zuko grumbles. 

“Uh, sorry!” Aang says with a bright grin, in better spirits. 

“Anyway, before we got sidetracked, you spoke to Toph about the feeling beneath Amestris?” Zuko says, wanting to put that whole conversation behind him. Aang’s grin falls off his face and his eyes focus on Zuko, serious. He nods. 

“Yeah, she said it felt gross, and it does make me nauseous if I focus on it too much,” Aang says. He puts his hands together as he shuts his eyes and focuses on the feeling, looking much like Zuko does right before he instigates a transmutation. Zuko muses that it makes Aang look like he’s praying. “The best way I can describe it is that there’s this stagnant, spiritual energy. It’s not going anywhere in particular, and it feels twisted up.” Aang opens his eyes and rubs the top of his head. “The monks teach us that our souls are supposed to be free, gently tethered in our bodies - that’s why it’s so easy for them to get untethered from us by sin. This energy feels like - like a  _ lot _ of souls all got tied up and they’re… squirming.”

Zuko grimaces. “Squirming?” That did sound gross. 

“Ah, that’s not the word. Oh, what did Toph  _ say?”  _ Aang laments, trying to remember. He pulls on an earlobe as he mulls it over. Zuko knows he’s found it by the way Aang’s face brightens. Aang stops pulling at his earlobe and snaps at Zuko. “Slithering! It feels like they’re all tied together and slithering beneath our feet in a giant circle, that’s how Toph said it.”

Zuko doesn’t like that word -  _ slithering _ . There are few creatures that the word is used specifically for. 

“Slithering - like a serpent?” Zuko asks. He sees the ouroboros tattoos on the homunculi in his mind’s eye and feels so tired. 

“Like a dragon?” Sokka cuts in, coming away from his corner with Katara. So, Sokka still managed to argue with his sister  _ and _ eavesdrop on Zuko? Sokka’s mind had some kind of other energy Zuko would never understand. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s weird underground,” Aang says, holding out his hand to Katara. She stomps over and takes his hand, glaring at Sokka. It seems their conversation didn’t go well. But Sokka isn’t focused on Katara anymore - he’s looking at Zuko, brow still crumpled, but face far more serious. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks Zuko. 

Zuko nods. “The ouroboros. I don’t think there’s an  _ actual  _ serpent or dragon below us like that; the ouroboros symbolizes the movement of energy - how we can’t truly create or destroy it and instead transform it, how we’re all connected by this principle. But if there’s a mass of energy like that under this country and that symbol is popping up with artificial humans that could have been  _ created _ by something like that…”

“...then  _ who  _ created it?” Sokka finishes. 

“And how has no one noticed?” Zuko continues. 

“Aang noticed,” Katara rallies. “And Toph. And the more sensitive monks.” Then she goes back to pouting and sneaking angry looks at Sokka. They all fall quiet. 

“Like I said… if that’s in the notebook, it could help me and my sister,” Zuko says with a sigh. “And maybe this whole country too. Just… think about it Aang.”

“... I mean…” Aang trails off, rubbing his forehead. “I want to help you and at the same time, it’s so scary. It’s the only thing I’ve ever hidden from my own community and it’s  _ our  _ Capital Sin, forbidden by the Avatar with the coming of the first tenet…”

“Which doesn’t make sense,” Sokka muses. 

“What?” Aang asks, confusion coloring his voice. 

“Sokka, that’s  _ rude _ . You can’t just discount someone else’s religion!” Katara snaps. “God, it’s like you were raised by  _ wolves _ or something.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that, Katara!” Sokka snaps right back. Zuko can see it now, the toll the siblings’ conversation took on Sokka. Sokka’s grinding his teeth and there’s a thick line of tension in his shoulders. “I mean,  _ historically _ . Alchemy and alkahestry practice as the Nomadic Capital Sin said by their  _ Avatar  _ doesn’t make  _ sense _ .” Sokka lets out a breath. “Zuko,” he says and oh no, Zuko does  _ not  _ want to be dragged into this, “correct me if I’m wrong, but the study of alchemy and its counterpart, alkahestry, in the east is about… two millennia old?”

Zuko does the math, thinks back to the basics and everything his and Azula’s alchemy master had taught them. As far as he remembered, yes, the arcane arts were about 2,000 years old. 

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Zuko says. Sokka nods, as though this has confirmed something for him. 

“And Aang, isn’t it told in your oral tradition that there were four smaller clans that broke away from the Xingese clans, feeling called to the desert between them and Amestris?” Sokka asks. 

“Yes,” Aang confirms - the Nomads always shared their oral histories freely. “One for each of the natural elements. Only one clan - to represent air - survived because the Avatar saw their goodness and taught them the ways to survive in their new, harsh climate. To honor that clan and the air they represented, which helps us breathe, we tattoo the flow of air to our bodies in our arrows when we reach the age of maturity,” Aang recites. Then he frowns. “Why are you asking?” 

“Because, the last time I asked one of your Nomadic elders to backdate that for me, they said it would have been between  _ five to six _ thousand years ago that the Nomadic people as we know them were established. And that  _ predates _ alchemy and alkahestry,” Sokka says. Aang’s eyes widen and he falls quiet. He looks down, seems to draw into himself. “It’s clear that this practice is a sin to your people - I’m not going to downplay that. But at least this you can agree on - it came  _ later _ than you’ve been led to believe. It wasn’t set by the Avatar as the ultimate sin alongside the ultimate tenet because it didn’t  _ exist _ yet.” 

Zuko stands there, a little floored himself. That… made sense. Zuko now has to wonder who misconstrued the dates of these things to insert alchemy and alkahestry as the opposites of the Nomadic teaching of respecting all life. It doesn’t matter, he supposes. Whoever that person is is long gone and this is what’s left. 

“I… I have to think about all of this,” Aang says, his voice cracking. 

“Sokka!” Katara chastises, taking a step toward him. Her face is scrunched in fury. Zuko takes a step back but Sokka takes a step forward. 

And then, Aang takes her hand, tugs her back to his side, and says, “No, Katara. He’s not wrong. I’m not saying our system is perfect - we were taught to be critical of the very systems we follow and are embroiled in, to have a healthy engagement with it. If alchemy was really created all that time after and our traditions have changed to include it, that does mean  _ my people  _ have assigned it that particular weight in the name of our god, and not that our god itself has done that. Humans are fallible and we’re only human.” 

Zuko forgets, sometimes, that Aang is considered one of the more notable, philosophical minds among the Nomadic peoples, a prodigy as it were. And then he says shit like this and Zuko is floored and  _ remembers _ . 

“Thank you, Aang,” Sokka says, bowing his head. 

“I have to think on this. And share this information with the elders,” Aang tells Sokka and Zuko. Katara is still vibrating with fury beside Aang, but Zuko thinks it’s just because she sees how hard this is for Aang to accept and realize. “I don’t think we’ll change our minds on not supporting alchemy,” Aang admits. “It still goes against our principles, even if it can’t be accurately considered the sinful opposite anymore. But…” And now Aang  _ smiles _ , just a little. His eyes fill with tears and Katara gasps. 

“Aang?” she asks, pulling him close to her. 

“If what Sokka says has merit, then… then Gyatso wouldn’t have been punished so harshly in death,” Aang admits. He puts his head to Katara’s shoulder, going slack against her, which is a bit comical since he has to fold himself down due to his height compared to hers. It softens Katara’s anger at her brother causing the boy distress. “And… that’s good. That’s a mercy for me to hear.” Aang sniffles, turns his head where he’s lowered it to Katara’s shoulder. “I’ll think really hard about this Zuko, okay? And thank you, Sokka.”

“C’mon, Aang,” Katara says, coaxing the boy towards the stairs. “Let’s sit and read a little. I’ll close the clinic for the afternoon - just take emergencies that come in - and make you some tea.” She shoots Sokka a look, less venomous, and says, “We’re talking about this at home later because how you went about it wasn’t the right way.”

“Fair enough,” Sokka agrees as his sister and her partner disappear up the stairs. Once they’re out of sight, Sokka deflates, head hanging. Zuko can’t help it - romance aside, Sokka is his best friend. He goes up to the other young man and puts a hand to his back. 

“Sokka?”

“I knew it would hurt him to bring it up, but I’ve been working on that theory for a while and - and I knew I had a chance to help you out so I… so I…” When he lifts his head to look at Zuko, Sokka’s eyes are red rimmed, like he’s trying not to cry. “I’m gonna apologize once Katara has a chance to calm down.” 

“Thank you,” Zuko says, touched. Sokka did that,  _ for him _ . “You - you did that for me, uh, for  _ us,  _ me and Azula. And it could have hurt your relationship with Aang. Thank you.”

But Sokka waves Zuko’s words away, eyes and smile tired. “Nah, I know me and Aang are solid. He knows I’d never do something like that on purpose and we’ve engaged in debates like this before. Katara however.” He rolls his eyes. “I get that my sister’s in love with him, and I’d be livid if someone said something like that to-” Sokka stops himself and Zuko frowns, curious. 

“To who?”

“To someone I loved,” Sokka says, avoiding Zuko’s eyes. “Anyway, I get why she’s mad, but I’m her brother. She could have had a little more faith in me.”

Zuko thinks of Azula, how she may give him a hard time but he  _ knows  _ how much trust she’s putting in him to return them to their original bodies. He decides it’s the same with Sokka and Katara. Zuko drops his hand and walks to stand beside Sokka, nudging their shoulders together.

“Have a little faith in her that she’ll move on from it,” Zuko says. “I know that’s how it can be with me and Azula.”

“About her,” Sokka says with a sigh, turning to Zuko. “You gonna check on her? We should probably get back to the shop. I need to keep working on your arm and Pops needs to adjust your leg.”

“Yeah, she didn’t go far. Give me a few minutes,” Zuko says. “Then we can head up to the shop all together.” Sokka nods and Zuko goes off to find Azula, following the pull in his chest. He’s tried explaining to Sokka before, but Aang understands it better with his spiritual background and had actually been the one to suggest that Zuko and Azula’s souls may have mixed. Aang had been disturbed by the possibility, but Zuko had been relieved to have a possible theory about how he knew how his sister was feeling, approximately where she was, and the status of her soul bound to that armor. 

He finds her down the road, sitting in one of the green fields of grass at the bottom of knoll. A butterfly has landed on one of the spikes of her shoulder guard and Azula swats at it irritably. It makes Zuko smile. 

“Thought I’d find you out here brooding,” Zuko teases, gently kicking her leather thigh guard with his automail foot. 

“I’m not  _ brooding _ ,” she snaps. “ _ You  _ brood, Zuko. I go into deep thought,  _ rumination.” _

“Call it what you want,” he says with a shrug, dropping down into a crouch beside her. “What are you ruminating on, then?”

“That I don’t  _ want _ to be like father,” Azula spits venomously. Zuko tries not to be taken aback by the emotion in her voice. She has no expression, but she knows she doesn’t need one with Zuko. She turns those fiery eyes on him. “But sometimes, I  _ feel _ like him. And that’s… I don’t want that.”  _ It terrifies you _ , Zuko thinks to himself. He places a careful hand on her broad, metal back. So empty of substance, yet so full of life. 

“Well, I won’t let you be like that,” Zuko tells her in that matter-of-fact way that only older brothers can. She scoffs, the sound echoing from her faceplate. 

“I’m bigger than you, a better fighter,  _ and _ I’d say I’ve been getting a lot handier with alchemy than you have,” Azula says, dripping with confidence in a way she doesn’t when she tries socially interacting with people. 

“That’s nice and all,” Zuko says back, “but I’m older and wiser than you, have more control of my temper, and I’m faster since I’m smaller. Not to mention, I’m the only one who can do alchemy without a transmutation circle, so I’d  _ still _ get you on your ass, even if I’ve never won at straight sparring against you. So, I think I can stop you if I have to.”

But Azula, usually so still under his hand as she doesn’t need to breathe, vibrates. Before Zuko can ask where her excitement is coming from, Azual turns to him in the grass, making him lose his balance in the couch and fall over onto the ground. 

“You’re wrong,” Azula says, her voice raising in pitch. 

“About what?” Zuko asks, rubbing his backside. His sister is sharper than him in a lot of ways, so if she’s saying he’s wrong about something, he probably is. 

“You’re not the only one who can transmute without a circle,” she clarifies, struggling to her feet. Zuko really needs to ask Hakoda for that good oil to grease the armor’s joints. 

“Yes, I am?” Zuko says, standing after her. He brushes the grass from his legs. “Unless you’ve suddenly developed the ability,” he mutters. God, wouldn’t that be just what he needed? Azula to be better than him at that too. At least Sokka had his automail and had moved out of the shadow of Katara’s accomplishments. Besides this, Zuko had squat. 

“Well, between  _ us _ you’re the only one. But Master Jeong Jeong can transmute without a circle too.”

It hits Zuko like a train - their alchemy master, Jeong Jeong,  _ could _ transmute without a circle. It’s been almost eight years since Zuko and Azula studied alchemy under Master Jeong Jeong and combat under his husband, Master Piandao. Zuko had barely noticed it as a child and Jeong Jeong’s explanation at the time had made sense. 

“Master, you transmute without a circle,” Azula had accused. She’d been practicing her circles and arrays with chalk in the cobblestoned street outside Jeong Jeong’s and Piandao’s butcher shop. 

“If you think about it,” Jeong Jeong had replied carefully and stoically, as always, “putting my hands together creates the circle with my arms. And I myself, in terms of my body, become the array laid atop it.”

Zuko had thought that was just a technique highly skilled alchemists could learn, but his travels haven’t shown anyone else who can do so. No one else besides  _ him _ , someone who committed the Taboo and  _ remembered _ the Doorway of Truth. 

“We have to go to Dublith,” Zuko says. “If Master Jeong Jeong can tell us what happened with him, maybe it’ll help us in getting our bodies back. We were so young when it happened to us, but maybe he was older and remembers more of it. I’ll take anything at this point, a hint, a clue in the right direction.”

“Might help to go back to our roots, strengthen our alchemy with him and our combat skills with Piandao,” Azula muses, heading back toward the clinic. “If we’re going up against  _ homunculi.” _

“It’s  _ Master _ Piandao,” Zuko reminds, just as Master Piandao had to remind her constantly all those years ago. “Show a little respect - you can only fight so well because of his tutelage.”

“And all the work I put into it!” Azula shoots back. “Not to mention, _ I _ had to adapt that fighting to this hunk of metal I waddle around in.”

“I helped!” Zuko argues. “And waddle? I’ve seen you  _ sprint  _ in that ‘hunk of metal’ to go pet a cat when you thought no one was looking!”

“Lies!” Azula yells, going to shove him. Zuko laughs and dodges; he really is faster than her due to his smaller stature. 

She chases him all the way back to the clinic, where he has to rest for a moment to catch his breath. Because Azula doesn’t breathe and has to do no such thing as resting, she simply barrels into him as she runs down from the hills. Zuko stumbles and rolls onto the ground, landing on his back, Azula sprawled on her back beside him. They both look up into the blue sky, watching the clouds slowly drift past. 

“Dublith then? After that blithering engineer fixes your arm, that is,” Azula reiterates. The way they lie, their heads are close to each other. Zuko nudges her head with his own. 

“He may be a gearhead, but he’s the best one we know,” Zuko insists. Even if he knows Azula is only teasing, he’ll come to Sokka’s defense any time. “And yeah.” Zuko exhales slowly through his mouth and looks back up at the sky, lifting his temporary automail arm up to shield his eyes from the sun. “Dublith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes Continued: 
> 
> 8) This story is dieselpunk -a retrofuturistic subgenre of science fiction similar to steampunk that combines the aesthetics of the diesel-based technology of the interwar period through to the 1950s with retro-futuristic technology and postmodern sensibilities (from wiki)


	2. The South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Azula head on down to Dublith to visit their old alchemy and combat masters. It seems that Zuko and Azula will have to admit to their pasts and secrets; however, their masters have hidden pasts and secrets of their own. But something isn't right down south. Why is the Fuhrer here? And why does he know about the homunculi?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2 y'all! Thanks for taking this journey with me. Don't mind if I, a trans man, sprinkle in a trans men. Just a lil sprimkles of us~ 
> 
> TW: There's talk of infant death here and descriptions of being trans that come from my own personal experience and don't, in any way, represent the whole of the trans community. 
> 
> Onward!

_There are two men between the drifters and the Nomadic refugees making their home in Resembool. Zuko is captivated with the rest of the crowd as the men take care of the drifters and protect the Nomads from any violence that had been planned to be taken on them._

_The first man, his black hair pulled back from his brown face into a bun with streaks of steel grey running through it, has a long sword with a gilded handle. His red and brown robes swish around him as he disarms the drifters with weapons that run at him, stopping them from reaching the Nomads behind him._

_The second man has shaggy grey hair and a pointed moustache and beard. He pulls up the sleeves of his black robe so his hands are free and claps them together. Zuko watches in fascination as he slaps them to the ground next, the earth rumbling under the drifters’ feet. The man - no the_ alchemist _claps again and snaps like Uncle Iroh does, a streak of flame dancing across the space between the alchemist and one of the drifters trying to sneak past him. It gets the drifter right in the behind, singeing him._

_In less than five minutes, the two men have dispatched the rest of the drifters, who run off into the hills surrounding town. The Nomads who they defeated bow and thank them profusely, but both men shake their heads and assure them it had only been right to defend the defenseless against individuals so vile._

_Zuko doesn’t think, he just grabs Azula by the hand and runs from Hakoda. He sees Bato grab Katara and Sokka by the back of the shirt so they don’t run after the Sozin siblings. Hakoda runs after Zuko and Azula. But Zuko doesn’t care. He_ needs _to talk to those men._

_“Wait!” Zuko yells as the strangers are wrapping up their conversation with the Nomads. There’s a little boy with the group, with the big grey eyes all the Nomads have and a shiny bald head getting pelted by the rain. Aang, Zuko thinks, because Katara had invited him over to play the other day. Zuko runs to the men with Azula by his side, standing beside Aang and panting. “Wait, please,” Zuko tells them. “Teach us.”_

_The alchemist looks around for the voice and then looks down to find Zuko. He scoffs. The man with the sword makes a noise of dissent, a hand coming to the alchemist’s shoulder to stop the alchemist from speaking._

_It’s this man who kneels in front of Zuko, his brown eyes kind but hard as steel when he says, “We can’t possibly do that. You’re just a child.”_

_“Where are your parents?” the alchemist snaps. He moves the fringe from his face and Zuko sees he has a scar on his face, as though someone had burned him._

_“They don’t have parents,” comes Hakoda’s voice from behind him. It stings, and Zuko feels Azula’s hand tighten in his. “They’re staying with my family.” He comes into Zuko’s line of sight and kneels beside him as well. “You scared me there.”_

_“Sorry,” Zuko mutters._

_“Teach us!” Azula yells, snatching her hand from Zuko’s grip. She stomps her foot and balls her hands into fists by her side. Zuko winces. She’s nine and still gets like this sometimes. She’s thrown more fits since their mother died and Zuko has apologized so many times to Bato and Hakoda for her behavior. But they understand; they don’t let her get away with her bad behavior, but they also don’t punish her for being distraught._

_“Young lady, that is_ not _how you get your elders to do something you want,” the alchemist snaps. Zuko wants to butt in but Azula speaks first._

_“Then how am I supposed to?” she responds, fire in her eyes. She crosses her arms and stares the alchemist and the man down. Zuko hates being on the other end of that stare._

_“Convince us,” the alchemist says._

_“Jeong Jeong,” the man with him mutters, standing back up. He makes a face Zuko can’t decipher, but the alchemist, Jeong Jeong, lifts a hand to stop the man from continuing._

_“Fine!” Azula snaps. She turns to Zuko. “Well? Are we going to convince them?”_

_By now, the Nomads and townsfolk have dispersed. The rain is picking up. Hakoda stands, face pinched with worry, but he lets them be. He’s since accepted that Zuko and Azula have their own path to take and he’ll be there to support them as much as he can, but he won’t stop them. They’re family, but they aren’t his children. Speaking of…_

_“What’s going on, dad?” Sokka calls, finally dragging Bato over. Bato is carrying Katara in his arms, jogging behind Sokka to keep close._

_“We’re going to convince these men to teach us,” Zuko confirms, both to Sokka and Azula._

_“Teach you what?” Sokka asks, even as Hakoda snatches him around the waist and pulls him back and out of the way of Azula’s first alchemical transformation. She’d been drawing out a circle and array in the dirt while they’d all been discussing the circumstances. Now, a small fist comes up from the ground, transmuted from soft earth into hard stone. Jeong Jeong and the man easily dodge, but there_ is _surprise in their eyes that this came from a child._

_Zuko figures he might as well join in._

_Jeong Jeong throws up a stone wall with a clap of his hands and Zuko runs forward, right at it. He carries a little dagger with a transmutation circle for iron carved on the blade. Zuko slams it into the stone, transmitting a tiny, dented spot of iron that he uses as a hand hold to hang onto the wall. He uses the dagger to climb, the bits of sturdier iron as handholds until he’s at the top of the wall and can propel himself over it. He lands on the other side and dodges the swing of a blade from the swordsman, using his dagger to deflect a swipe that comes too close. Azula has made it by his side, though he’s not sure how. She uses her tiny stature to run between the man’s legs and trip up. It’s enough that the swordsman staggers and Zuko kicks him in the abdomen, sending him onto his bottom in the dirt._

_He sees Azula go in to hit the swordsman and grabs her by the middle to stop her._

_“Zuko, let go!” she yelps, squirming, but Zuko doesn’t. He thinks they’ve made their point._

_“We underestimated you,” Jeong Jeong says, walking over and helping the swordsman up. In the next moment, he’s spluttering, blood spurting from his mouth. He lifts a hand covered in a black sleeve to wipe at his mouth._

_“Blossom,” the swordsman murmurs, pulling Jeong Jeong to his side. But Jeong Jeong wipes his mouth and waves him off._

_“It’s fine,” Jeong Jeong insists. He straightens. “What are your names?”_

_Zuko lets go of Azula, sobered by the sight of blood and still in his arms. “Zuko and Azula Sozin,” he says, watching both men’s eyes flash in recognition at their surname._

_“Like the Fuhrer?” the swordsman asks._

_“He’s your father,” Jeong Jeong states. Zuko nods. “And he left you here, so far east. With no one?”_

_“We had mother but she died and he didn’t care!” Azula yells._

_“Young lady, your tone. No one is arguing with you,” Jeong Jeong sighs. Azula opens her mouth and then stops. Zuko sees her realize that Jeong Jeong isn’t wrong. She stays silent, though she’s still frowning._

_“Please, teach us,” Zuko says. “We’ve been learning what we can on our own, but we can only get so far. We only have so many books. And we can only impose on the Imiqs for so long.”_

_“Now, hey, wait a minute!” Hakoda says. He turns Zuko to him by the shoulders, Sokka standing beside him with wide eyes. His hair is short and hangs to his ears, not quite long enough to pull into a little ponytail like his father and Bato. “You two aren’t imposing on us at all,” Hakoda says, voice strained. “We love having you here and we wish we could do more for you in terms of your alchemy. But don’t think we don’t love you.”_

_“We do!” Sokka says, stomping his own foot now. He grabs Zuko’s hand in his own. “I love you Zuko and I don’t want you to go!” Sokka’s lower lip trembles. Oh no, Zuko thinks, has he made his best friend cry?_

_“I didn’t mean…” Zuko trails off. He squeezes Sokka’s hand too. “I love you all too, but we_ need _this opportunity,” Zuko explains. He turns back to where Jeong Jeong is watching him, Azula pouting but quiet, the swordsman watching Jeong Jeong, oddly enough. “Please. Teach my sister and me.”_

_Jeong Jeong stares at him for a good while. Zuko tries not to shiver at the look, but it’s still raining and he’s all wet while a cold wind blows through town, chilling him to the bone. Then Jeong Jeong looks to his side where Azula is standing, but actually quieted. Then he looks to the swordsman, who nods, slowly._

_“You will address me as_ Master _Jeong Jeong. I will teach you alchemy,” Jeong Jeong states and Zuko wants to let out a yelp of joy. Azula’s pout disappears but she doesn’t smile, not like she might have when their mother was alive. “This is my husband, and you will address him as Master Piandao. He will teach you combat.”_

_“They’re children,” Bato says, letting Katara down by his side. She clings to his leg and watches Jeong Jeong and Piandao warily. “Is the combat piece really necessary?”_

_But Jeong Jeong lifts a hand to stop him. “Alchemists will be sought for whatever talents and research they have. Be this from foreign or domestic parties, it is true. An alchemist must be able to defend themselves with common weapons in the event that they have no access to a transmutation circle.”_

_“But-” Bato starts. But Hakoda places a hand on Bato’s shoulder and shakes his head. They won’t win this one. Bato stops and nods back. Zuko has seen them get closer to each other this past year they’ve been in Resembool, and he wonders. He knows Hakoda’s first spouse, his wife Kya, died in the war two years ago. Zuko wonders. And he looks at Sokka, with his eyes full of tears at the prospect of the Sozin siblings leaving and he wonders more._

_“We leave tomorrow for Dublith,” Jeong Jeong says._

_And the next day, they go._

* * *

“Do you really have to go?” Sokka asks as Zuko and Azula wait for the train to Dublith. Katara had said her goodbyes that morning before heading into town for the clinic. Aang had come by to walk her down and had said his goodbyes as well. He seemed none the worse for wear and was fine with Sokka, so that was good. 

Zuko hefts his pack higher up his shoulder, adjusting his red coat, the one with the alchemy symbol in black on the back of it. Azula likes to tease him that it’s the only color he wears because it’s the only color that doesn’t clash with his golden eyes. At least she’s never said it’s the only color that doesn’t clash with his scar, though they both know that to be true as well. 

“Yeah,” Zuko responds. His hair is getting in his face. He’d only gotten his new arm attached that morning - it had taken Sokka three days to finish reconstructing and reenforcing it. The soreness from reattaching the nerves had made his hands shaky and his usual braid for his long hair hadn’t come out as good as it usually did. Zuko wonders if he should cut it, sometimes, but he hasn’t cut it since the Taboo and it keeps track of the years for him. Besides, Sokka commented on it positively once and now he can’t bear to chop any of it off. “Uncle said to lay low and stay out of central for a bit, so we’d might as well go while we have the free time.”

“And… and you two are good? You don’t need company or anything?” Sokka asks, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. He’s not the only person saying goodbye to their loved ones as they wait for the train. But Zuko thinks Sokka _is_ the most radiant. He’s in brown trousers and another flowing, blue tunic, this one a lighter blue, like the sky in the spring. Sokka hadn’t taken the time to tie his hair back, so it hangs in waves down to his chin, glorious brown locks loose. Zuko wishes he were brave enough to ask Sokka if he could kiss him. 

“Brother and I have each other,” Azula points out dryly from above both their heads. Zuko groans and rolls his eyes. She has _zero_ tact and at this point Zuko suspects she has no interest in learning any. 

“Okay, Azula, that’s enough,” Zuko sighs. “Go get our tickets stamped so we’re not rushing when the train pulls in. Please.” 

“I’m not blind,” Azula insists, looking between the both of them before she walks away, letting it go this once, Zuko assumes. 

“I - uh I didn’t mean it like that,” Sokka says, wincing. “I know you two can handle yourselves and watch out for each other. I just…” He sighs and reaches out to Zuko, tucking that annoying bit of hair that’s come loose in Zuko’s face behind Zuko’s ear. “I’m gonna miss you. You’re never here long enough, to me.” Sokka drops his hand at the same time that Zuko finally gets brain power back to say anything. Zuko misses the touch immediately. 

“We can come back through Resembool on the way back to Central, when we do end up going back,” Zuko says, knowing Azula is going to make a big stink out of it, “and you can spend some time with us in the city while we research some of this in the Central Command library.” That’s safe enough, right? As long as they aren’t wandering about in the dark at night, Sokka should be alright, especially close to uncle and Lu Ten. 

Sokka’s tired eyes light up with delight. 

“Really?” he asks, taking Zuko’s hands in his own. Sokka’s never shied from touching the cool metal of his automail, but Zuko has to wonder if Sokka’s just so used to handling automail that he doesn’t notice, or if it’s because he genuinely doesn’t care that one of Zuko’s arms is metal. “I can come for a bit? I won’t be in the way or a risk or whatever?”

“If you stay by Lu Ten and with anyone Uncle assigns to watch us, then no, you should be fine. I…” Zuko wants to say _I love having you with me_ , but is that too much? “I like having you with us,” he settles on. 

“I like being with you,” Sokka says, looking at their hands all wrapped around each other. Zuko swallows hard. God, but he’s going to take that the wrong way and it’s not even Sokka’s fault. Zuko isn’t being a very good friend by immediately assigning romantic weight to things when it’s never been that way from Sokka’s point of view. 

Zuko wants to ask _what does that mean to you_ but then Azula is yelling, “I can see the train, dumb-dumb, let’s go!” from down the platform and Zuko can feel the soft rumble under his feet of the train, vibrations going all the way up his metal leg and settling in his hip. Zuko sighs. 

“Okay. I’ll call the day before we plan to leave Dublith, okay? So you can get ready. And Katara and Aang can come if they want, too,” Zuko says, so it doesn’t look like he’s trying to spirit Sokka away. And yet, he feels like he just _has_ to also say, “But, if it’s just you, that’s great too. I don’t - I don’t mind that.”

“Me neither,” Sokka says with a grin. He lets go of Zuko’s hands but takes a step closer. “Uh, I guess this is bye for now?” Zuko nods. And then Sokka hugs him. They’ve hugged before, Zuko knows this, he was _there_ for the hugging, but this feels different. Sokka tucks him close in those strong arms of his, and Zuko is still short enough that it’s comfortable to tuck his face under Sokka’s chin, head laid against his shoulder. “Be careful, okay?” Sokka whispers against Zuko’s hair as the train screeches to a stop behind them. Zuko can’t speak, his throat closing up. He hates that they worry Sokka and the others like this - but he hates it for Sokka the most. Zuko nods and Sokka sighs and releases him, laughing a bit like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry about that, you’re gonna miss the train at this rate.”

“Azula won’t let me,” Zuko responds, because it’s true and he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“See you soon, Zuko,” Sokka says, waving. 

Zuko forces himself to say, “Yeah, see you soon,” and turn toward the train to Dublith. 

* * *

Zuko and Azula stand outside the butcher shop for a good ten minutes. Zuko tells himself all they need to do is knock, that everything will be fine. Still, he can’t do it. 

“Well, go on!” Azula insists, pushing him toward the door, finally. 

“Why don’t _you_ do it?” Zuko says, backing up again. He bumps right into Azula where she’s standing directly behind him, crashing into her chest plate. 

“I… well… well, you’re - I mean,” Azula stutters, so unlike herself. “You’re the oldest!” she finally says. 

“Well this is a first! You’ve never cared about that before!” he shouts back, turning to face her. She’s scared too, he realizes. They’ve committed the Taboo and now they have to face the people who taught them to do better than that. Zuko hates to be a disappointment. He knows Azula feels the same, even if she won’t admit it. They respect Jeong Jeong and Piandao. 

“You two are going to let the whole neighborhood know you’re here with that shouting.” 

Zuko freezes and peeks over his shoulder. Sure enough, there’s Jeong Jeong, standing in the doorway of the butcher shop, wiping his hands on his apron, in those black robes of his, almost reminiscent of the Nomads’. Behind him, Piandao stands, sharpening a cleaver with a whet stone, dressed in a green tunic and brown trousers, an apron around his waist. Jeong Jeong’s hair has gone completely white and Piandao’s is now totally a steely grey. Both men have deep wrinkles around their eyes and mouths. It’s almost been a decade, Zuko reminds himself. Still, the men seem so much older than they should. 

“Master Jeong _Jeong!”_ Zuko ends up yelping as Jeong Jeong launches himself at Zuko, going right for Zuko’s blind side, the same side as his burned eye. Zuko claps and transmutes the top metal plate of his automail arm into a blade, blessing Sokka in his heart for strengthening it. _Of course_ Sokka realized Zuko used it for combat purposes and made it easier for him to do so. Still, Jeong Jeong trips him up before Zuko can even land a blow, and his back hits the cobblestone ground. Meanwhile, Piandao has slashed at Azula with the sharpened butcher knife. It’s a small weapon and she’s a big suit of armor, so she’s trying to keep track of the blade _and_ not move so fast she topples herself over. She still ends up on the ground beside Zuko, falling hard onto her backside. Zuko is glad she can’t feel pain - the fall looked like it would have sprained a tailbone. 

“You dare come back here in this state?” Jeong Jeong asks, arms folded in front of him. “You, Zuko. You transmuted without the use of a circle and array. Even more, you transmuted your own appendage. Not only are two of your limbs metal, but you now have an obvious blindspot in your vision.” 

“That’s not brother’s fault!” Azula shouts. Zuko appreciates it. He knows Azula had felt helpless for what their father did to him in the aftermath of their transgression. She won’t stand to hear anyone put that on Zuko when she partially blames herself for not stopping it from happening.

“You’re one to talk,” Piandao says, testing the sharpness of the butcher’s blade against a thumb. “You’re completely hollow in there.” Azula chokes on her next words and falls silent beside Zuko. Using her for leverage, Zuko stands. He nudges her until she stands as well, grumbling. 

“We didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness for what we’ve done,” Zuko tells them, looking at the ground. “You can’t give us that - it’s not you we transgressed against. It’s all of nature. And we’re _not_ going to be forgiven for that.”

“Then why have you returned?” Jeong Jeong asks. Zuko’s hands both clench at his sides. He lets out a breath, controlling the rage that flickers through him. When he looks up at his former masters, he looks them headon. 

“Because, Master Jeong Jeong - _you_ can transmute without a circle too,” Zuko says, lifting his chin up. If there’s one thing Jeong Jeong and Piandao taught him, it was to accept his own failings with grace and to look in the face of confrontation. They can’t afford to back down and Zuko won’t. “And we want to know _why_.”

Jeong Jeong glares back. Piandao is pensive behind him. Beside Zuko, Azula is blessedly quiet. Their masters were caring but they never went easy on the two of them as children. Azula learned that her attitude would not be tolerated, and for all her bravado about not addressing them properly from the day before, she won’t act like that to their faces. She respects them too much. 

“Come inside,” Jeong Jeong says, “I was about to start dinner. Piandao, prepare the guest room?”

“Of course, my blossom,” Piandao says, placing a gentle hand on Jeong Jeong’s arm. “You mustn’t push yourself.”

“Bah,” Jeong Jeong gripes, waving his husband off. “Come, Sozins. You are no longer my students; you are adults and so I shall treat you as such. But before I tell you what befell me, you must tell me what befell you.”

“Yes, sir,” Zuko agrees, feeling the relief run through him. “Azula?” Zuko calls. She still feels tense beside him, but she nods and follows him into the butcher shop. 

* * *

Together, Zuko and Azula tell them everything. How they had been researching human transmutation on their own. How they pieced together everything they could in-between lessons with Jeong Jeong and Piandao. The formulas they made based on the chemical makeup of the human body, their collection of those materials once their two years of study under the couple were complete. How they chose their father’s study in the old house to try and bring their mother back. 

“And?” Jeong Jeong asks at the kitchen table in the apartment above the butcher shop he runs with Piandao. He’s holding a steaming cup of tea, but he doesn’t drink it. 

Zuko tells them how the circle lit up when they added their blood and exerted their alchemical will onto it, willing their mother’s soul back into the broken down components of the human body. Azula admits that she doesn’t remember anything after her own body disappeared. And Zuko tells them how he lost his leg, went through the eerie Doorway of Truth, and brought Azula back, anchoring her soul to the armor in exchange for his arm. 

Jeong Jeong takes a deep draught of the tea. Sitting beside him and across from the siblings, Piandao exhales harshly, a hand on Jeong Jeong’s arm. 

“Your eye?” Jeong Jeong asks. 

Zuko falls silent. Azula pipes up. 

“That was father,” she seethes, the sound ominous from the armor’s helmet. “He came at the behest of the mayor and when he found us, he burned Zuko and effectively disowned us.”

“I’ve never seen him use flame alchemy before,” Zuko admits. He hates hearing Azula talk about what their father did to him. “He doesn’t - he doesn’t use alchemy often.”

“As the Fuhrer, he doesn’t need to,” Jeong Jeong says. He puts his tea down and points to his own scar. “I left the military and renounced my certification as a state alchemist after your father was named Fuhrer,” Jeong Jeong tells them. “He sent a blast of fire at me, in retaliation for my desertion. It’s despicable that he would use that power on a helpless child. I was a grown man, then, and was still able to only dodge some of it.”

 _“What?”_ Zuko gasps. Jeong Jeong had been a state alchemist before their father was Fuhrer? “Why didn’t you _say_ something?”

“I didn’t need you two getting any ideas to join the military as one of their dogs,” Jeong Jeong growls. “But maybe I should have told you, to warn you away from it.” He closes his eyes and sighs. Zuko feels Jonge Jeong’s disappointment, but it’s not aimed at Zuko and Azula - it’s aimed at Jeong Jeong himself. “And maybe if I had discussed my own transgressions, you would have learned as well.”

“That’s on us,” Zuko snaps. He won’t let anyone try and take responsibility. They knew what they were doing, in theory, even if not in practice. They knew it was a transgression and that no one else had been able to get human transmutation to work in the past. Their own desperation to see their mother and hubris in thinking they were above those who came before them led them to where they were today.

“It is,” Jeong Jeong agrees, looking at Zuko with those sharp eyes. “And yet, I will always wonder.”

“So what happened with you, then?” Azula snaps, armor groaning as she leans forward. “Brother lost an arm and leg, and I obviously have no body to show for it. What did you lose?”

“God, Azula,” Zuko sighs, resigned. 

“What? They’re sitting there, asking things of us, _judging us_ , but Jeong- _Master_ Jeong Jeong did the same thing!” She catches herself and coursecorrects before she gets too far. At least there’s that.

Jeong Jeong lifts a hand and she stops, falling back into old habits from when they were students. 

“Shall I get us more tea?” Piandao suggests, a bit antsy as he taps his fingers against the table and refuses to make eye contact with any of them. 

“We must speak about it, Piandao,” Jeong Jeong says instead. Piandao hesitates and then nods. He holds Jeong Jeong’s hand, already on the table, and Zuko tries not to gasp or feel envious. The two men were married and in love, and Zuko and Azula always knew that. But they were also warriors and would save their displays of affection for when they weren’t working or training Zuko and Azula, which wasn’t often anywhere in sight of the children. The envy, though, was just from Zuko wishing he could take Sokka’s hand with that connotation whenever he wanted. 

“Then speak about it,” Zuko says, flicking his long braid over his shoulder and crossing his arms against his chest. 

Jeong Jeong sips his tea, cup held in his free hand. For a moment, it’s silent and Zuko can feel the whole world breathing with them. It reminds him of the month he and Azula spent on that little island off Dublith to prepare for their alchemy training. There, the two had learned what All is One and One is All meant - that every part of the universe was intertwined, from the smallest ants to the stars out in the cosmos. Jeong Jeong had respected that two young children could put those pieces together and Zuko suspects the man respects the young adults they have become that have stumbled when applying those pieces to the real world. 

“We had a child,” Jeong Jeong starts. Zuko tries not to react to that; he can’t imagine the two men with a child of their own. Jeong Jeong was so strict and gruff, Piandao like a shadow and occasionally unreadable as stone. Beside him, Azula tries and fails to smother a scoff. “Our child, from my body.”

That trips Zuko up. “I… how?” Zuko blurts. He winces. “I apologize, Master. That was rude. But…” Azula seems to have been shocked into silence at that one. 

“I realized I was a man when I was your age, Zuko,” Jeong Jeong says, calmly sipping his tea. “There are many people like this, born into one role who realize they are truly another. I went through changes so my physical body reflected my mentality. But some pieces of you - mainly those inside that are responsible for things like hormonal secretion and the bearing of life - are not easily removed and at times, better left where they are, even if they don’t align with one’s gender.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. That’s something he’s seen before, not just with Amestrians, but even in the Nomad people that live in Resembool. Aang had even been mentoring a young girl who had been born into a monk's robes before she realized it about herself. 

“We desired a family and we had the physical means to create one,” Piandao continues, taking over for a moment. “But the medicines that are used to help one's body transition can sometimes make it difficult to conceive.”

“But you said you _did_ have a child,” Azula points out, only a little accusatory. 

“Yes, we finally managed,” Jeong Jeong agrees. “But right after she was born, she fell ill and could not survive in this world.”

It’s a punch to the chest. Zuko can’t breathe for a moment. He thinks of Sokka, a tiny little thing wrapped up in a purple blanket in Sokka’s arms and then suddenly, that little thing taken away. It hurts and it isn’t even _real_ for Zuko. 

Azula seems unduly affected. 

“She - you mean your baby _died?”_ she gasps. Zuko looks to her. He wonders if Azula wants children. She’s 17 and has never had a relationship, unable to be seen as desirable to those around her because of her armored body and her brash attitude about it. Does she want this? Does she fear this?

“She did,” Jeong Jeong says. There’s still pain there, Zuko can see it. Jeong Jeong’s voice has gone gruff. Piandao is one long line of tension beside him. “And I tried to bring her back.” Zuko can’t even call the man careless - Zuko _understands._ And now, he sees. Jeong Jeong has never been completely healthy around them. Zuko remembers the first time they all met on that rainy day in Resembool. After his alchemical display, Jeong Jeong had spit up clots of blood. 

“So what did you lose, besides her?” Zuko asks, voice soft. He swallows hard, trying not to cry. Jeong Jeong hasn’t cried yet, so what right does Zuko have to cry over a dead child that wasn’t even his, that he never even met?

“The organs that allowed me to bear a child - so that we could never do so again,” Jeong Jeong tells them. He puts down his tea cup and puts that hand on his abdomen. He holds Piandao’s hand tighter. “But you know that when the Truth takes, it doesn’t seal the wounds. It took my organs and left everything that was attached open, bleeding and disconnected.” Zuko winces - he can’t even imagine that, having internal wounds that won’t ever heal correctly, laboring to breathe, always in pain. His stumps hurt during bad weather and sometimes just because he’s putting too much pressure on them when he uses his automail appendages. It seems different to the constant ache Jeong Jeong must feel. 

“And now you can transmute with just your hands and no circle,” Zuko confirms. Jeong Jeong nods his head once. His hand returns to his tea cup, a little delicate thing made of bone white china, pastel green swirls designing the sides. “I remember the Doorway. I remember Truth - or whatever the hell that white shadow was. But Azula doesn’t and she can’t transmute like me.”

“I have long since suspected that to remember is to know the secrets of alchemy so that a circle is unnecessary. It certainly was… esoteric,” Jeong Jeong says, grimacing. 

“I remember you described it as _spooky_ ,” Piandao says, straightfaced but teasing as he primly takes a sip of his own tea. Zuko chokes on a laugh and Azula’s armor vibrates silently beside him. 

“Ahem, so because Azula doesn’t remember her time in the doorway, she can’t transmute like us,” Zuko says, smothering his chuckles. He really can’t imagine _Jeong Jeong_ saying the word spooky to describe anything. 

“Correct,” Jeong Jeong responds rigidly, glaring from the corner of his eye at his husband who is steadfastly ignoring him. “I can’t even remember any specifics, I just know that I _know_ what was in there.”

“Me too,” Zuko admits, tugging on the end of his braid. Maybe, when he finally gets their bodies back and feels like he can cut his hair, he’ll do it in a long shag like Jeong Jeong. They have a similar face shape.

“What do you plan to do with this information?” Piandao asks. “You said you two came for answers, and you have some. Now what?”

“Yes, I too am curious what other nonsense you’re going to get involved with,” Jeong Jeong responds, hand still in Piandao’s, even through the teasing. 

“I’m going to get our bodies back,” Zuko says, leaning forward and looking his masters in the eyes. Azula nods beside him, digesting and stewing. Zuko will have to get it out of her at some point. 

Jeong Jeong laughs, but it isn’t cruel, just incredulous. “How do you even purport to do that?”

“I’m going to find a philosopher’s stone,” Zuko says. Jeong Jeong laughs harder. Zuko slams his fist into the table. Even Azula jumps - the rash one is usually _her_. 

_“Zuko,”_ Jeong Jeong warns, laughter gone. 

“No, it’s not funny!” Zuko shouts. He’s shaking. “This is our fault and we’re going to fix it. I’m - _I’m_ going to fix it. And if the philosopher’s stone is what it’s going to take, then I’m going to find it or create it or _whatever I have to do to get it!”_ He’s panting and Jeong Jeong and Piandao watch him. Azula has a hand on his arm, heavy with metal and empty of substance. _There’s no one in there_ , Zuko thinks, horrified for a moment. “I don’t know why, but my little sister lost her _body_ because of what we did and I won’t let her die like this. I won’t let her live like this either, it isn’t fair!”

“It _was_ fair, you little fool,” Jeong Jeong snaps and Zuko swallows his next words. He hears Azula gasp beside him and then turn her head down to cover up the sound. 

“That’s cruel,” Zuko says, voice shaking. “Even for you.”

“Not fair as in she deserved it,” Jeong Jeong sighs, rubbing his temple. “So much older, yet still so young,” he murmurs. 

“Yet, we must respect their age and rationality,” Piandao reminds him gently. “Tell them. They will understand. We’ve raised them to do as much.”

“Tell us what?” Azula snaps. She stands by Zuko, towering over everyone at the table. “And what do you mean it was _fair_ if you don’t mean I deserved it? Well? I can take it. _Tell me.”_

“Sit, both of you,” Jeong Jeong isists. “You’re not children anymore; don’t suddenly start behaving like them.” Zuko reluctantly takes a seat, tugging on Azula’s heavy arm to get her to do the same. It takes her a moment to make sure she’s sitting steady in the chair. 

“So?” Zuko asks. He’s sitting rigid in his seat. He needs to know what Jeong Jeong means. 

“It’s a fair exchange. To know the Truth, you give up that which you hold most dear,” Jeong Jeong explains. “You know this - nothing can be gained without losing something in return. Energy cannot be made or destroyed, just transformed. What you lost was transformed into the knowledge you gained.”

“I don’t understand,” Zuko says. “I don’t prize my leg over the rest of my body?” That makes no sense. 

“No, Zuko. But what does your leg allow you to do? Stand. Stand alone, with no one else that you would have to rely on. And you prized not needing your father - to be independent. You prized being capable of standing on your own two feet, without assistance.”

“That’s metaphorical!” Zuko yelps. 

“But it’s a physical manifestation of the truth of you, is it not?” Jeong Jeong says. “I didn’t favor my reproductive organs over the rest of them, but I did value my ability to procreate and would have continued trying if I had kept them. So that was taken from me.”

“But Azula… what, are you self-centered or something? So all of you was taken?” Zuko accuses. That… well, that would actually make sense, if it’s Azula they’re talking about. She already thought she was better than most people, Zuko included. And at least in terms of talent and skill, in multiple senses she was. 

But Azula, seven-foot-tall suit of armor _Azula_ , hunches her shoulders, and ducks her head, trying to be small even though it’s impossible now. 

“That isn’t it, is it?” Piandao asks, though his voice is far more gentle than Zuko thinks Jeong Jeong’s could ever get. 

“I just - I just wanted to feel my mother hold me one more time,” Azula says. Her voice cracks, echoing in the metal of her helmet. “I just wanted to feel her arms around me one more time, her warm skin against mine.” Her fiery eyes are slits. Zuko’s throat goes tight with Azula’s want to cry. 

“So it just took all of you,” Zuko says softly. “And all to put our mother through the hell of being dragged back to the land of the living for agonizing seconds before she was banished to death again. Because the body we made her wasn’t even a body.” Zuko sees that mess of bones and soupy organs. 

Zuko is about to voice his anger at the unfairness of the Truth, when Piandao says, “You must tell them the rest.” 

“The rest?” Zuko repeats. “What rest? What else could there possibly be?”

Jeong Jeong closes his eyes and sighs, long and hard through his nose. Zuko’s stomach sinks. 

“I too was plagued by the prospect that I had dragged our child’s soul back only to put it through the anguish of dying once more,” Jeong Jeong says. His eyes open. They’re fiery and angry and so, so sad. “So I dug up what I had conjured in that transmutation circle.” Zuko feels sick. Jeong Jeong had unburied his dead baby’s second body? “And what we found could not have come from myself and Piandao.”

“What?” Zuko asks. His vision funnels. Azula is so, so still beside him, like a real suit of armor with no spark of life to it. 

“We ran through the physical traits in our family as far back as we could go,” Piandao says, helping his husband carry the burden of telling them whatever it was they were trying to tell them. “No child that had those characteristics could have come from us.”

“So… what does that _mean_ , then?” Azula says, voice all hard edges, like the steal she inhabited. 

“It means I didn’t bring my daughter back. That _thing_ wasn’t her,” Jeong Jeong says on a sigh. “And I suspect that what you two conjured up wasn’t actually your mother either.”

“You’re saying… you’re saying we lost our bodies for _nothing?_ For something that couldn’t even _work_ in the first place?” Zuko yells. But it isn’t Jeong Jeong’s fault. It _isn’t._ It’s Zuko’s, because he led his sister down the wrong path. He’d been convinced it was possible - or else there wouldn’t be a rule against it, would there? Why make a rule against the impossible? Unless that fact was something that people had to learn for themselves. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeong Jeong says. He stands, finally letting go of Piandao’s hand. “I am tired, my love. I await you in bed.” Jeong Jeong walks off down the hallway and disappears into the room beyond the last closed door. Piandao watches him go. He sighs. 

“I didn’t mean - I…” Zuko is at a loss. 

“He knows,” Piandao says. He looks up at Zuko, circles under his eyes. “What will you children do now?”

“I need to go back to Resembool,” Zuko says. “I need to know if that’s our mother in that shallow grave Hakoda dug all those years ago.”

“You’re going to dig her up too?” Azula shouts. She stands, towering over Zuko. “Hasn’t she been through enough?”

“It might not be her, Azula! And I have to know. I have to know if I’ve made mother suffer too. If I’ve made all of us suffer or if it’s just us.” Zuko slams a fist against her chest plate. “Alright? I have to know. I _have_ to.” He keeps slamming his fist until she catches it in her gloved hand and Zuko leans his head against her. “I have to know.”

“Fine,” she snaps. “Just - just _stop_ hitting me. It’s annoying.”

“If you two could help us with some chores before you go tomorrow, we would appreciate that,” Piandao asks. 

“Really?” Azula asks. 

“Call it payment for staying the night,” Piandao laughs. 

“Nothing is free with you people,” Azula mutters. 

“Nothing is free in this life,” Piandao corrects. 

“No,” Zuko mutters, still leaned up against his sister. “No, nothing is.”

* * *

Zuko can’t find Azula. 

“She was sweeping the front steps,” Piandao says. Zuko still hasn’t seen Jeong Jeong. Piandao claims he’s laid up in bed, having had an episode in the night. Zuko doesn’t doubt it, but he also wonders if Jeong Jeong doesn’t want to see them. 

Zuko checks outside and frowns. Where would a seven-foot-tall suit of armor run off to? The broom is in the middle of the street, toppled to the side. That’s not good. Azula may be a brat, but she was raised right by every person who raised them and wouldn’t just leave her things lying about, especially if it was something she was tasked with. 

Something scuttles to his left, down an alleyway. Zuko doesn’t think, just slaps his hands together and snaps his fingers in the same direction. The blast of fire gets the perpetrator in the side and a loud yelp echoes down the alley. Zuko runs down the way and slams whoever it is into the wall. 

“You’re…” He can’t even finish. The man has grey-green skin and a tail, reminiscent of a lizard’s. His tongue flicks out and his yellow eyes bulge. _“What_ are you?” Zuko lets him down and he crumples at Zuko’s feet. 

“Miss June will get you for this!” he says instead of answering. “She will! She got the armored girl and she’ll get you!” Zuko’s eyes widen at the mention of the armored girl - Azula. He lifts the lizard man up and slams him into the wall with his metal arm.

“Where’s the armored girl? Where’s my sister?” he snarls. “Or do you want to get cooked to well done?”

That’s all it takes for the lizard man to point to the dilapidated doorway behind Zuko. Zuko throws him toward it and claps his hands for a transmutation again. He keeps a bit of flame in his hands and directs it at the lizard man as a threat as he’s led underground from the doorway, a staircase spiraling down. They end up outside a concrete room where he can hear Azula’s laugh coming from. He knocks out the lizard man and kicks the door down. 

There’s a tall woman standing in front of Azula, her long hair down her back, only a bit pulled up in a topknot at the back of her head. She’s in red and black and when she flicks her hand as she turns to see who’s just kicked their way in, Zuko sees it. 

There’s a red ouroboros tattoo on the back of her hand. 

“Homunculus!” Zuko yells. He throws his ball of flame at her head and watches as her hair catches light. She hits the ground, clawing at her face and Zuko runs to Azula. 

“Watch out you, idiot, she’s got chimeras on her side!” Azula yells looking over Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko feels a presence and rolls out of the way in time to avoid getting hit by a man with the horns of a bull, another man beside him with sharp teeth, like a wolf. 

“How the hell did someone make _chimeras?”_ Zuko yells, clapping and transmuting for his life. 

“The stone, probably!” Azula yells back. She’s chained to the wall. Zuko really needs to get her out of here. 

But then Miss June, the homunculus who _should_ have been set on fire on the ground, stands back up. 

“Aw _fuck,”_ Zuko swears, wishing he had some back up. Maybe Katara - she could fight with alkahestry if she chose to, or even Sokka with his quickshots and deadly aim. 

“Well that was rude, little boy,” June says. Her skin grows back in bursts of red, just like the other homunculi. _Unlike_ them, her skin turns a charcoal black, shiny and hard. Zuko launches himself over the bull chimera and uses the momentum to slam his metal arm into her face. 

His arm _snaps._

“What the fuck?” Zuko yells, sliding back into the wall. Sokka is going to _kill_ him. But it had been like he was hitting a wall of steel or harder. Like _diamond_.

“Oh, did that hurt?” June laughs. “Poor little boy. But I’m not here for you. I’m here for the metal girl. The _immortal_ metal girl.”

“She’s not immortal,” Zuko snaps. June falters. 

“What? But, her body. She has a soul seal on armor. She doesn’t need to eat or drink or sleep. She feels no pain. How isn’t that the perfect body, an _immortal_ body?” June stops. “And how do _you_ know that?”

“Zuko don’t!” Azula yells, trying to tear herself off the chains on the wall. 

“Because I put her soul there, that was me,” Zuko says, ignoring her. “Shut up, Azula!”

 _“You_ shut up, dumb-dumb! She’s just going to kill you! Her name isn’t June, it’s _Greed._ She’s with _those_ homunculi!” Azula yells back. The bull chimera punches her helmet off her armor. “That’s not going to do _shit_ , by the way,” Azula says, her voice coming from the chest cavity now. The bull chimera is a bit startled. 

“Oh, so you’ve met my siblings,” June - or Greed? - says. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, that charcoal sheen to her skin staying in place. _It’s a shield_ , Zuko realizes. It must have a carbon base if it’s that hard. She could turn it to the hardness of diamond or the crumbling instability of graphite. “Bunch of annoying losers and ass-kissers, am I right? I was done following orders. I’m _greed_ . I want the world and I want it _now_. Couldn’t do that with my stick-in-the-mud family and everyone following orders. They’d go running to our Pops if they knew I was here.”

“You… you have a _father?”_ Zuko asks. “Does that mean the man who made you?”

“Ugh, I don’t know if I’d call that freak a man, but sure. Doesn’t everyone have a father?” Greed says with a flick of her hair. “Listen kid - you tell me how to transmute a soul to attach to something like that armor, I’ll tell you all about my Pops. Anything you want to know - how about it?”

“Don’t!” Azula yells. 

“Stop telling me what to do!” Zuko yells back. 

“Oh, geez, kids, really?” Greed says. Her shield starts to recede and Zuko doesn’t blame her. He can’t really transmute with his arm like this. “Deal or no deal?”

“No deal,” Zuko snaps. He’s not giving this homunculus anything. “And we don’t have a father,” Zuko adds. He wouldn’t call Ozai that, anyway. Jeong Jeong and Piandao maybe. Hakoda and Bato, definitely. But not Ozai. 

And yet, when he hears that voice behind him drawl, “Why Zuko, how hurtful,” he still feels scolded as if he would from a father. 

Greed’s eyes widen and her shield comes up lightning fast, just in time for a burst of fire and then a fast swipe of a sword. 

“Wrath, you bastard!” she yells as she goes flying through the back wall and Ozai - how the _fuck_ is Ozai even here? - follows after her. Zuko takes the moment to run over to Azula. The bull chimera is dead by her feet, having been crushed by the falling wall debris when Ozai threw Greed. Azula’s armor seems to be fine, if blood soaked from the bull chimera’s untimely death. 

“Azula, let’s _get out_ of here,” Zuko says, shaking her, even as Amestrian soldiers start coming in through the door, rounding up who Zuko assumes are other chimera. What is the military doing in Dublith? “Azula?” Zuko calls. She doesn’t move or answer. He looks at her helmet, lying across the room. Her fiery eyes are nowhere to be seen. Oh no, not _again_. “Azula!”

“Zuko!” Zuko turns and sees Jeong Jeong of all people, dispatching several soldiers to get to them. “Get your sister up and go!”

“She’s - she’s not here,” Zuko says, trying not to freak out. “Jeong Jeong , get out here. Our _father_ is here.”

“The Fuhrer?” Jeong Jeong says, finally coming to rest beside Zuko. He coughs up blood and Zuko’s heart aches. 

“Yeah. And she didn’t call him that. _Or_ Ozai. She called him _Wrath_ ,” Zuko says grimly, feeling ill. Wrath, like a deadly sin, like all the other _homunculi_ were named after. Could it be that Ozai was one as well? But then, how did Zuko and Azula exist? Homunculi were artificial humans and were said to be unable to reproduce. So how? And if Ozai wasn’t, then why call him Wrath? Why talk to him like she, June or Greed or _whoever_ knew him?

“Can you carry her?” Jeong Jeong asks. 

“She’s too heavy,” Zuko says. He looks at her, just to check over that she wasn’t unduly damaged by the wall debris. And he sees it. “Oh no,” Zuko gasps. The bull chimera’s blood splatter had gotten into Azula’s armor with her helmet gone across the room. His blood was all over Azula’s own blood seal. Zuko rips his shirt with his good hand and wipes the blood off. He has no idea what fresh blood applied to the seal will do to Azula in her unconscious state. “Azula!” Zuko yells, shaking her by a shoulder spike. They need to get out of here before Ozai comes back. And maybe figure out _why_ Ozai is even here. “She’s not waking up. Jeong Jeong, get out of here. Father won’t do anything in front of the soldiers with us, but he won’t hesitate with you.”

Jeong Jeong looks conflicted. “We couldn’t find either of you, but one of the neighbors saw you run down this alley,” Jeong Jeong explains. “Fine, I’ll go. But you must stop by the shop before you two run anywhere else. Just so we know you’re alright.” He squeezes Zuko’s shoulder and disappears back up that spiraling staircase just as the first soldier is regaining consciousness. 

And then, so does Azula. 

She gasps from her armor and Zuko runs to get her head. He brings it back to her, getting it attached to her body, ignoring the sounds of fighting from Ozai and Greed. Zuko helps Azula sit up and squeezes her shoulder. 

“What happened?” Zuko asks. 

“I - I remember,” Azula gasps. “I remember the Doorway. I remember Truth. Not the details, but I remember going through and I saw it.”

It must have been the fresh blood interacting with her own blood seal, Zuko thinks. Then he asks, “You saw what?”

“My body, Zuko,” she says, fiery eyes sparking even brighter from the sockets of the skull faceplate. She grabs his good arm. “My body is in there, Zuko. It’s there, I saw it. I look _awful.”_ It’s such an absurd thing to say, all things considered, and Zuko has to laugh. “Skins and bones. I don’t think I remember anything that can help,” she admits, even past his giggles. “What happened to Greed?”

Zuko opens his mouth to answer when Ozai comes out from the hole he made in the wall, dragging the homunculus after him by the hair. 

“You can’t, Wrath. I won’t let you take me back, I won’t go back to him. Father can choke, I won’t let you!” she screeches. 

“Do shut up, Greed. Or, what name did you give yourself? June, was it?” Ozai rolls his eyes and throws her to his soldiers who are standing back up on shaky legs. Ozai frowns, but doesn’t ask why they were incapacitated. Maybe he assumes Zuko and Azula did it. “Fullmetal, Azula, why are you in Dublith? How odd that our paths have crossed.”

“I would ask the same thing. We were visiting our alchemy and combat masters. What business do you have in the south?” Zuko spits. 

“I am the Fuhrer. This _country_ is my business,” Ozai replies. “Including the south.” He doesn’t look at Zuko or Azula as he speaks, just cleans his rapier with a handkerchief he’s pulled out of the breast pocket of his black coat. “I must get back to Central Command and take care of this one,” Ozai says, nodding to Greed where she’s bound, her whole body crackling with that red light as she tries to heal from the blows that Ozai dealt her. But she’s slowing. If the philosopher’s stone made her, Zuko thinks, does that mean it too has limits? “Do hurry back to Central, Fullmetal Alchemist. I’m sure your uncle has _much_ to tell you.” 

Zuko gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach at the words. What the hell has happened now? He wants to get to Central now, but he knows he just needs to go back to Resembool first and dig up what they thought had been their mother, forcibly resurrected. Zuko watches Ozai and his entourage drag Greed out of the cement room, back up the stairs. The other chimera’s are dead in the hallway. 

“What did he do?” Azula spits. “What did he do in Central that he wants us to see so badly?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko murmurs. He stands, wincing. “But we need to check on that grave in Resembool first.”

“And fix your arm. You idiot,” Azula says, standing as well. 

“C’mon. We’ll stop by the shop to let Jeong Jeong and Piandao know we’re okay, then I’ll call Sokka and let him know we’re coming back. There should be a midnight train back to Resembool, right?”

“Usually,” Azula agrees. 

Right. Back to Resembool.

* * *

When they get back to the butcher shop, the windows are shuttered and the closed sign is up on the door. Zuko frowns but nods to the side gate, right next to the shop’s concrete, outer wall. It leads to a little walkway with a set of stairs that end at a side door into the apartment above the shop. Sure enough, once they get to the top of those stairs, Zuko finds the door unlocked. He goes in, Azula behind him, his flesh and blood arm holding up his automail one. 

Jeong Jeong and Piandao are standing by the doorway, waiting for them. 

“Your arm,” Piandao says, walking forward. He takes a look at it and tsks under his breath before disappearing down a side hall. When he returns, he carries a long piece of cloth. He uses it to make a temporary sling for Zuko’s arm. Zuko nods in thanks. 

“The Fuhrer?” Jeong Jeong asks, by a window now and peeking behind a curtain to see into the street. 

“He said he had to get back to Central,” Azula scoffs. “It sounded like he did something awful and wants us to go see, the sick bastard.”

“Will you go?” Piandao asks, fussing over Zuko’s sling. 

“We have to,” Zuko concedes. “Our uncle and cousin are there.”

“Ah, Iroh,” Jeong Jeong muses, coming away from the window. 

“You know Uncle Iroh?” Zuko asks. It does make sense though; both men are alchemists and involved in the military, be it past or present. If Jeong Jeong knew Ozai, it stood to reason that he knew Iroh as well. 

“We both do,” Piandao says, a sly smile on his face, stretching across his neat, greying beard. “I may not have been a state alchemist, but I was a soldier for as long as Jeong Jeong was. Your uncle very clearly should have been chosen as Fuhrer, not his younger brother.” The military seems to push people to their limits. Zuko doesn’t like that they all have that in common. 

“We stay in touch with him,” Jeong Jeong says, but it’s all so cryptic. “I see your sister woke eventually.”

“I did,” Azula says, standing up straight. When she does, the top spike in her helmet hits a little over seven feet. Zuko knows she takes pride in that - she has to take pride in some part of this body, or else she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. 

“I’m glad you are well,” Jeong Jeong says. He moves to a different window, also covered. Does he think Ozai’s men may have seen him? As of now, no one else saw Jeong Jeong, no one except Zuko and Azula. Zuko doubts that Jeong Jeong would allow them into his home or near his spouse if he suspected they sold him out, so Jeong Jeong is probably just being overly cautious. 

“I saw the Doorway,” Azula says bluntly. Jeong Jeong turns his head from the window over to them so fast Zuko thinks he might have gotten whiplash. “My body is there,” she tells Jeong Jeong and Piandao, who has finally let Zuko’s sling be. “Let’s test your theory, then, shall we?” She claps her gloved hands together and kneels, pressing them to the floor. The wood rearranges itself into a hand making a crude gesture. Azula laughs in delight. Zuko tries not to groan. It’ll only take her a few months to get as good as he is at it. 

“Fix the floor, please,” Piandao says, unimpressed. Azula sighs and tries to revert the wood back into flat boards, but there’s a different mindset one needs to transmute without a circle. Jeong Jeong ends up helping her, Zuko unable to with his arm. 

“So, you were correct, Master,” Azula says, standing once the floorboards are flat. 

“It seems so,” Jeong Jeong responds. He stands, slowly, clutching his abdomen. He grimaces. 

“Are you alright, Blossom?” Piandao asks, going to him. Jeong Jeong waves his husband away. 

“Bah! You worry too much,” Jeong Jeong grumbles. He turns to Zuko, Azula standing by his side now. “You’ll go back to Resembool first? For your arm and your mother.”

“Yes,” Zuko confirms. “Then Central. The Central Command Center has the biggest library in Amestris. There’s bound to be something in there about the stone or homunculi or _something_. We have a friend - he’s a Nomad with a notebook containing -”

Jeong Jeong raises a hand and Zuko falls silent. “Don’t tell us too much, Zuko. If we’re captured and they use certain tactics on us, we won’t be able to help telling them your secrets. So, we’ll leave it at a notebook. He’ll give it to you?”

“I don’t know. Even if he doesn’t, Central should help. Our cousin, Lu Ten, and Uncle have been gently poking about for information,” Zuko says. “Anything to help us. We’ll see.” 

“There should be a midnight train back to Resembool,” Piandao says. “Will you stay here until then? We would love to see you off.”

“Of course, Master. Thank you,” Zuko says, bowing at the waist. He elbows Azula and she joins him with a huff and sigh. “May I use your telephone? I’m going to call ahead to Resembool and let my mechanic know we’re coming back. They expected us to be gone longer, I think.”

“Of course,” Jeong Jeong says, nodding to the rotary phone on the wall. It’s a few models older than Zuko is used to - then again, the military stations all had the most up-to-date telephones and radios. The wiring looks like it’s been holding, though, so Zuko goes over to call Sokka as Piandao bullies Jeong Jeong back into bed for some rest and Azula wanders to the small shelf of alchemical books in the sitting room. 

It doesn’t take long, just two rings, and then Sokka is picking up, saying, “Imiq Automail, this is Sokka speaking. What can I do you for?”

Zuko can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. “Is that how you really answer the phone for people calling the shop?”

“Zuko!” Sokka shouts in delight. He chuckles and Zuko leans against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. He closes his eyes and pictures Sokka’s face in his mind’s eye, standing by one of the stools in the shop, looping the phone wire around his pointer finger as he holds the receiver to his ear with his other hand. He wonders if Sokka is wearing his customary blue tunic or maybe that heather grey one that makes him look so good. “Are you alright? Azula good?”

“We’re… well, mostly okay,” Zuko admits. “We uh, ran into our dad,” Zuko finds himself saying. He winces - he hadn’t meant to say that, but Sokka has a way of making him feel so comfortable that he just ends up sharing so much. 

“The Fuhrer was in Dublith? At the same time you two were?” Sokka asks, shocked. “That… seems far too coincidental for my tastes.”

“Yeah, and get this,” Zuko continues, “there was another one of those homunculi here. Greed. Except, she really didn’t like the others, called herself June and wanted to get the hell away from them. Our father waltzed in and _took her by force_ , even with her healing factor and this hard, carbon shield she could transform her skin into.”

“He just _took_ her?” Sokka says. There’s a creak and Zuko can almost see it - Sokka having to sit and process what he’s hearing. 

“She called him - she called him _Wrath_ ,” Zuko says. “Not Fuhrer. Not Ozai. Not even Sozin - just _Wrath._ ”

“Like the sin,” Sokka muses. “Like the other homunculi. You think…?” Sokka doesn't have to finish his sentence for Zuko to know he’s come to the same conclusion as Zuko had. 

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of reasons why it wouldn’t make sense. Mainly, Azula and I exist and it shouldn’t be possible for artificial humans to reproduce,” Zuko sighs. “I don’t know, Sokka. This is crazy. Why was he here? For Greed? But why did he need her? And why didn’t she want to go back with him - to their _Father_. That’s what she said.”

“I can’t tell you, man. And I wish I could. But, you two are okay, right? You said as much, but you know.”

“I… uh…” How is Zuko supposed to tell him about the arm? “Well, hey. Sokka. You um. Have you updated the schematics for my arm?”

“I mean, just with the updates I put in last time,” Sokka says. “Why? I just upgraded you.” Zuko stays quiet, hoping his silence speaks for itself. It does. “No! _No!_ Zuko, man, what the hell? I _just_ rebuilt that!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know Greed could harden her skin so it was tougher than diamond. It shattered my arm. I couldn’t even transmute!” 

“What? Did she hurt you?” Sokka asks, voice high with worry. It makes Zuko feel warm and fuzzy. 

“No, she just wanted information, not to hurt us. I don’t think she’s like the other homunculi. She doesn’t listen to whoever is pulling their strings. And it seems like if my father is involved, it’s not him. Which means someone is pulling _his_ strings.” And isn’t that a scary thought, someone more powerful than Ozai. Zuko shivers. “Anyway, Azula and I are coming in on the midnight train. We’ll probably get home by the early morning, five or six o’clock.”

“I’ll be there to grab you two at the station,” Sokka confirms. Then, a bit softer, shy even: “I like it when you say that, about Resembool, about _us_.”

“...uh, that we’re getting in early?” Zuko asks, confused. That’s a weird thing to like, but Sokka _is_ the weirdest person he knows, so he shouldn’t be too surprised. 

“What?” Sokka asks. “No. Don’t make me call you a dumb-dumb like Azula does,” Sokka threatens. “I mean when you call us home. I - I like that.”

Oh. That’s… that’s actually really nice. And Zuko doesn’t usually notice when he says that, but honestly he means it. They burned down their own home because they figured if they had nothing to go back to, they wouldn’t give up - but also, Zuko thinks, to hide the monstrosity they’d summoned in place of their mother. In Central, they usually just stayed with uncle or Lu Ten and didn’t have a permanent place either. Out east, it’s the same. They don’t really have a permanent place to call their own _besides_ the Imiqs’ home. 

“Well, you’re all as close to home as we’ve gotten since our mother died,” Zuko says softly. He doesn’t need Azula hearing him in the next room and then making fun of him. He sighs. “Speaking of our mother, there’s something I have to do after you fix my arm.”

“Again,” Sokka tacks on. 

“Yeah, again,” Zuko allows, smiling a bit, even though he’s feeling sick at his next thought. 

“What do you need to do?” Sokka asks. “I mean, concerning your mother, that is.”

Zuko sighs. “I need to dig her up.”

* * *

Jeong Jeong and Piandao do walk them to the station. The lamps in the street are all lit, but they stick to the shadows anyway, each of them more deadly than whatever pickpockets or vagrants were loitering about in the dark. 

As Zuko and Azula board the train, mostly empty but for a few wandering souls, Jeong Jeong and Piandao nod to each other, as though silently agreeing to something. Jeong Jeong leans against the open window of the train closest to where Zuko and Azula have taken a seat, so he can talk to them through it before the train takes off. 

“Give your uncle a message for us, would you?” Jeong Jeong says, stroking his moustache. 

“Of course,” Zuko says, though he does find it strange. 

“Tell him that Piandao and I are willing to play pai sho with him whenever he’s ready. All he has to do is let us know,” Jeong Jeong says. Zuko frowns. They want him to pass on a message about old people game night? That’s suspicious. But even if there’s a code in there, as all alchemists code their work, he’ll pass it on to Uncle. Zuko has a feeling that Uncle Iroh will share with him if the meaning is important enough. 

“I’ll tell him,” Zuko says. 

“Good,” Jeong Jeong replies. He steps back into Piandao’s waiting arms. “Have a safe trip.”

And then they’re off. Zuko hopes this isn’t the last time they see their old masters. 

He falls asleep somewhere near Rush Valley, his last thought being that he needs to take Sokka here for a shopping spree on his alchemist’s paycheck. Rush Valley is an automail paradise, after all. The next time Zuko is conscious, it’s to Azula flicking him on the nose to wake him up. The sky is a highlighted blue with bright orange on the horizon. He can see rolling hills and hear sheep baaing. 

“We’re here,” she says as the train starts to slow, pulling up to their modest little station. It’s just a wooden shack, really, with a few benches to sit on and wait for your train, and a little booth for the ticket seller to sit at with the train schedules. 

“Sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to keep you company,” Zuko says, rubbing his eyes as he wakes up. Azula shrugs, all shifting metal and little surprise. 

“I know you’re a little, weak boy who needs his beauty rest,” she says, offhand like she doesn’t care. Oh, she must have been lonely if she’s resorting to little boy jabs. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Zuko says, standing and stretching as the train stops. “We’ll take a day for just us before we leave and go out into the hills for a few hours.”

She inclines her head toward him, as though she’s contemplating the offer, then says, “Promise?” For a moment, she sounds just like she did when she was 11 and he had been so confident that they could bring back their mother. Zuko hasn’t ever told her, but he doesn’t think her voice has changed much in the past six years. He’s sure it’ll go to what it should sound like when she finally has her body back and her body matches her age. But right now, she sounds like she’s 11 and afraid and it’s Zuko’s fault. 

“I promise,” Zuko says, just like he did then. He means it, like he did then, too. But this time, Zuko knows he’s going to follow through. 

Sokka is on the platform, bundled into an indigo parka with a fur trimmed hood against the early morning chill. He’s holding two mugs of something steaming, and he hands one to Zuko. It smells like the mint tea that Sokka’s grandmother, Kanna, used to make them, when she was still around. She’d only passed two years before. It had been one of the few times that Zuko and Azula had stayed in Resembool for longer than a week. The last time they’d stayed longer than a week had been for Hakoda’s and Bato’s wedding, when Zuko was 13 and Azula was 11, and then after that was when they’d gone back to the house and…

Zuko has apologized, in later years, for ruining the men’s wedding night the way they had. 

Katara is just leaving the house to get to the clinic when the three of them walk in. The house smells like bread and that makes the big, wooden structure homier. Kanna had been raised in the house with her 10 siblings, but had been the only one to stay in Resembool and so got the house. It had been built by her father to house the large family, having multiple bedrooms and many halls, large sitting areas and dining areas to hold the 13-membered family. Of course, she’d only had Hakoda, and Hakoda only had Sokka and Katara. While Zuko and Azula took up another couple of rooms, the place could feel big and daunting. It helped that Hakoda had turned some of the extra space into the automail shop. But even the small things, like Katara’s baking and Bato’s cooking, could fill the big, old place with warmth. Zuko once asked how it was to get the whole place wired when electricity and radio became a bit more common and Hakoda just groaned and declared it the worst month of his life.

“You’re back!” Katara says on her way out. “There’s bread on the counter. Pumpkin this time. I’ll be by with Aang for lunch.” She pats Azula on the arm, inviting her to the clinic if she gets bored of watching Sokka fix Zuko’s arm for the hundredth time. Azula takes her up on the offer immediately, leaving back into town with Katara as she goes. Zuko watches them leave and sighs. 

“Let’s get you something to eat and then I’ll have a look at that arm,” Sokka says. “Dad went down with a cold so he’s sleeping in and Pops is probably gonna hover over him so they won’t be in the shop much today.”

Zuko finishes his tea and has some bread, then follows Sokka into the shop. He lets Sokka tut and gripe over the arm before he surmises the damage isn’t as bad as it looks. It should just take a few hours to get it back into working shape. He offers to just take the arm off and let Zuko sleep some more, but Zuko doesn’t want to be alone with the prospect of what he’s going to do tonight, so he lets Sokka work on the arm with him still attached to it. 

“You’re quieter than usual,” Sokka says as he works. His voice is even but when Zuko looks at him from the corner of his eye, Sokka’s got a furrow between his brows that has nothing to do with his concentration. 

“Azula thinks I’m going too far,” Zuko sighs. 

“And you don’t?” Sokka asks. Zuko snorts. 

“Maybe. But I can’t just leave it alone. I have nightmares about this Sokka. And I know Azula doesn’t sleep, but it bothers her in her own way. I have to know. We both do. She just doesn’t want to admit that this is the only way to put that particular unknown to rest.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, leaving the subject alone. Zuko drifts off into sleep to the sound of Sokka working on his arm. The sound of tinkering has never bothered him. He’s fallen asleep in the shop plenty of times. Azula says it’s just because he’s narcoleptic - which he _isn’t_ , though he will admit that he is often more tired than he should be with the amount he gets to sleep. 

He’s considered, before, that after their souls mixed a bit, he’s been sleeping for Azula’s body in the beyond. Eating for her too, even, which is why he eats twice as much as someone his size should and doesn’t seem to grow as much as you would think for his age. He’s 19 and he’s barely the same height as Aang, four years his junior. Azula thinks he’s just saying that to make up for being shorter than he wants to be, but he wonders if she’s changed her mind now that she’s seen her body. 

Sokka wakes him up, a gentle, callused hand to his face. A thumb runs down his cheek, fingers gently turning his head to one side, a soft voice calling out to him. Maybe Zuko is imaging it, but the thumb runs over his lower lip, wistful maybe? But it must be a dream, because when Zuko’s eyes flutter open, Sokka’s hand is back in his lap, wrapped around a wrench. He’s got a bandana on his head, holding his hair back, even though it’s pulled back in a little ponytail on the top of his head. 

“Hey, I’m pretty much done. Didn’t want to reattach the nerves while you were asleep. That’d be an _unpleasant_ wake up call,” Sokka chuckles. Zuko hums in agreement and gives himself a moment to wake up before he nods to Sokka to reattach. “On three?” Sokka says, even though Zuko knows he’s going to do it before then so that Zuko isn’t too tense when it happens. 

“Sure,” Zuko says, going along with it as usual. He never knows if it’s going to be on the count of one or two. Sokka once did it on three and that had been the least painful reattachment, as Zuko hadn’t been very tense since it didn’t happen during the usual count. 

“One,” Sokka counts, then twists the bolt that shocks his nerves back to life. Zuko’s whole body goes rigid and he feels like he’s going to vomit from the pain. But then it’s gone, just a buzz of soreness, and then he’s fine. 

“Still the worst part,” Zuko says, testing his arms range of motion, rotating his shoulder. He wiggles his fingers and wrist, bends his elbow. Everything feels good. “Thanks. And uh, sorry. Again.”

“I just wish you weren’t in danger every time you broke the damn thing. Come to me and tell me you broke it rough housing with your sister or even falling from a tree Aang dared you to climb, and trust me, I won’t be as irritated,” Sokka says with a grin. He looks at the clock on the wall and grimaces. “Ugh, it’s almost lunch time. I told Katara I’d make something this time. C’mon. Let’s go before our sisters call me a liar. You can help.”

He makes a soup with vegetables from the back garden Bato has, bits of chicken from the market run the day before chopped and thrown in, the bone boiling in water for a hearty broth. Katara, Azula, and Aang come in for lunch, Bato comes down to collect bowls for himself and Hakoda before disappearing back up to his sick husband, and the day moves on. Zuko goes back to bed after he helps Sokka with the dishes, so glad that the house has plumbing and running water. In his and Azula’s old home, they had to use the water pump outside the house, or else go into town to the public well. He lays in bed for an hour before dozing.

Sokka wakes him for dinner, but Zuko doesn’t go down. Instead, he sits by the window, looking at the old, burnt out husk of their childhood home. He knows where he’ll find the grave that Bato and Hakoda dug for that monstrosity’s remains. He knows where the shovels are in the Imiqs’ shed. He’ll take a lantern out with him, a bucket that he can fill at the water pump that just managed not to be consumed by the flames he’d snapped to life five years ago when they left. The sky has clouded over and Zuko can feel his stumps start to ache. He’ll bring his bright red, alchemist’s coat then, protect himself from the worst of the storm. 

And he’ll go alone. There’s no need for Azula to see this. Or worse, argue with him the whole time to try to get him to stop. 

He waits until it’s quiet downstairs and then throws his coat on, pulling the hood up, and heads down. Zuko is able to get all the way to the front door before a match sparks to life and illuminates the lantern he’d been going to use to light his way. Sokka holds the match, still smoking. Azula holds the lantern. 

“Really?” Sokka asks, an eyebrow raised. “You were just gonna sneak out on your own even though we _both_ know what you have planned?”

“You can’t stop me,” Zuko insists, adamant. He wants to stomp his foot to prove his point, but he also knows when he’s being too childish. “I need to go.”

“Then let us go with you,” Sokka says. “C’mon. I know where the shovels are in the shed.” He heads out into the storm, the rain falling hard, the thunder booming close by as the lightning illuminates parts of the hills and fields in flashes. 

“This is idiotic,” Azula says as Zuko walks by her. 

“Then stay,” he says. 

She follows him.

By the time they reach the shed, Sokka already has two shovels, correctly guessing that Azula won’t be participating in the actual manual labor. The three head up the hill, towards where the Sozin house used to stand. The outline of it creeps up on them with every flash of lighting until they’re suddenly right there. It’s just a few wood beams, the part of a wall here or there, lumps of stone and so much charred debris around. Zuko walks into what used to be the main area of the house, then walks to the right, where the little garden plot used to be. It’s covered in bits of blackened wood and stone, but this had been the general area Hakoda and Bato had said they’d buried what they’d found. 

“Here,” Zuko says. His stumps ache something fierce, the pain making his stomach lurch. But it’s more than that - the prospect of what he’s about to do, digging up what could be his own mother. What if Jeong Jeong and Paindao were wrong? What if he’s just disturbing the dead? 

He won’t know unless he tries. Zuko picks up a shovel, grips the already wet shaft between his hands, and pushes the metal tip into the wet, ashy earth. 

“This is madness, Zuko,” Azula calls to him over the wind and rain as he starts to dig in earnest. “Zuko, stop. Stop!” Azula yells. But he doesn’t. She shouldn't have come out here. This is exactly what he didn’t want. 

“What are you three doing out here in the middle of a storm?” a new voice calls, shouting to be heard. Zuko turns and there’s Hakoda, bundled in a coat similar to the fur-lined one Sokka had this morning. 

“Dad, you shouldn’t be out here. You’re still recovering from being sick. If Pops catches you, that’s the end of Hakoda Imiq,” Sokka says, putting down his own shovel before he could even start. Zuko watches as Sokka walks over to Hakoda where he’s standing by Azula, who just stands there, motionless now. “Hey, Azula? Why don’t you go on in with my dad? Zuko and I will catch up in a bit, okay?” Sokka turns to Hakoda now. “She’ll rust out here at this rate.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’s a kind one. Hakoda nods and puts a hand on the gauntlet closest to him. “Come on in, kiddo,” Hakoda says to Azula. “I’ll get that good polishing oil and we’ll make you good as new while we wait for these two bozos to come back inside. How about it?” It takes a moment, but Azula nods. “There we go,” Hakoda praises. He gets Azula turned around to head back down the hill, but before he goes, he turns his head over his shoulder and yells to Zuko, “A bit more to the right.” Zuko frowns. “I think... I think we buried her - _it_ a bit more to the right.” It’s what he leaves Zuko with as he goes off back to the house with Azula, a few lights on the ground floor going on as Bato wakes and finds his sick husband out of bed. 

“You sure about this?” Sokka says, coming to stand by Zuko where he's moved a bit to the right of where he was in the former garden plot. “You don’t have to.”

“I do,” Zuko says. “And I’m sure. _You_ don’t have to-”

“Shut up and start digging. I don’t need to hear you _say_ anything stupid when you’re already _doing_ something stupid,” Sokka cuts him off. He grabs a shovel and starts to dig. Zuko takes a bracing breath and gets back to it himself. 

They’re out there for hours. The first time Zuko stops, he doesn’t have enough time to run off for a moment and he throws up right into the hole he’s been digging. It’s a mix of his stumps aching and his disgust at what he’s going. Sokka throws down his own shovel and holds Zuko’s long braid out of his face so he doesn’t get it covered in vomit. By the fifth time, Zuko has mastered running off to the side a bit away, near the tree that barely survived and used to hold their swing. At this point, there’s nothing left inside him to vomit, so he’s just dry heaving and spitting bile, choking on his own spit. He’s crying, but he doesn’t know if it’s from the pain in his stomach, limbs, or his heart. 

It’s after his fifth episode that he finds it. With a flash of lighting to help illuminate what the flickering lamp provides, Zuko sees a pile of dirty hair at the bottom of the hole he’s dug. 

He drops to his knees and digs it out with his bare hands, almost feral. When he’s uncovered enough, he grabs a handful of it, slick and slimy in his hands, but brittle where the rain hasn’t touched it. Zuko runs to the bucket they brought, already full of rain water, and rinses the handful of old hair. He drags the lantern over to him and holds the hair close to it. 

He starts to shake. 

“Sokka?” he asks, voice wobbly and cracking. “My mother - my mother had chestnut brown hair.” He slowly turns, eyes wide, face contorted in pain and no small amount of horror. “This is - this hair is _black_.”

“Fuck,” Sokka mutters. 

It takes them another hour to dig up the rest of the remains. It’s a collection of hair and bones, any flesh long since rotted away. By then, the rain has let up, the sky starting to lighten in increments as the storm clouds roll away and morning comes. They’ve laid out all the bones, and Sokka had left for a terrifying five minutes to get his anatomy book and a tape to measure with. As an automail engineer, Sokka had to know basic anatomy, differences in bone structure and musculature. The book is more for Zuko’s benefit, so he has cold, hard proof of what Sokka tells him reflected in text. 

As the sun rises and the storm winds continue to blow without any rain, Sokka measures bones and double checks his findings in the anatomy book as Zuko sits in the mud and waits. Sokka even runs a few quick calculations, screwing his face up and looking up to the right, drawing little figures in the air with his pointer finger, as if writing out math equations and solving them. 

Finally, he puts the tape down. 

“Well?” Zuko asks, unsure what he wants his answer to be. 

“So these ribs?” Sokka says, voice cracking. “With their size, they’d belong on someone with a barrel chest.” Zuko’s stomach lurches. His mother had been a petite woman, accustomed to wearing corsets most of her life. Barrel chested is the _opposite_ of what she looked like. “And this? This is a femur - the bone in your thigh.” Sokka taps his own thigh to demonstrate where he’s talking about. “With the length, it would belong to someone at least eight feet tall.” Ursa Sozin had cleared about five foot eight. “And this pelvis?” Sokka says, lifting the bone up. He turns it around in his hands a few times, looking inside the dips, flipping to the right page in the book, just in case. But when he looks up, he’s distressed. “Zuko, this is a _man’s_ pelvis.” He drops the bone to the ground. “This is what you and your sister created. But this isn’t your mother, Zuko. It can’t be.”

Zuko cracks. 

The laughter starts somewhere low in his belly and rises up to his chest, creeps up the back of his throat, and suddenly he’s spewing it like vitriol. Sokka pulls back, momentarily startled, but then Zuko’s laughs peter off and he shakes, eyes wide, tears pouring down his cheeks silently.

“We did that, all of that, for nothing. We didn’t bring her back. We just… we just made a pile of bones and hair. Not even the right - the right _color_ hair, that’s _our_ hair color, Azula’s and mine. That’s _Ozai’s_ hair color. This is just, just the culmination of a 13 and 11 year old’s collective knowledge of anatomy! That’s all this is!” Zuko clutches his head in his hands. They lost their bodies, their _lives_ \- for this? _For this?_ “We didn’t ruin our mother’s soul, we didn’t kill her a second time,” he says, and there’s relief there, there is. It’s just, there’s also _grief_ , all over again, white hot and agonizing in his chest, choking him with its intensity. “But that’s because we _never even had her back.”_

Sokka wraps his arms around Zuko and Zuko doesn’t know what else to do but hang on as tightly as he can. Everything is spinning and Sokka’s touch is his only anchor right now. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Sokka murmurs against Zuko’s wet hair. “I’m sorry, Zuko. I’m sorry.” He rocks the two of them back and forth for a while, until Zuko stops shaking, until he can breathe without getting dizzy. “Zuko?”

“Whatever it was, it still breathed, for a moment,” Zuko whispers. “It’s not right to just leave it exposed like this. Help me - help me bury it? Properly this time, with a marker?” Sokka just nods. It doesn’t take them long to do so, the hair and bones all piled neatly, wrapped in a piece of tarp that had been lying around under some debris. They dig a different hole, in the middle of the house ruins and not outside of it, fill it up, and drag one of the stones left over from the house’s outer walls to serve as a marker. Zuko picks some wildflowers growing in the ruins of the home and places them on top of the fresh grave. “I’m sorry we did this to you,” he murmurs. 

Then he stands, body, heart, and soul aching. 

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Azula is in the kitchen with the rest of the family when they get back. 

“So, you really did it, didn’t you?” she spits, standing up to seem more menacing, to tower over him with her extra foot and a quarter of height. “You really _dug up our mother-”_

 _“Our mother,”_ Zuko snaps, cutting her off, “is buried on the other side of town in the cemetery on the hill.” The brightness of Azula’s fiery eyes dims a bit. Zuko thinks he may be shaking again. Sokka wraps an arm around his shoulders. “And she’s _been_ buried there since she died nine years ago. That _thing_ wasn’t our mother - I don’t even know if it was really human.”

Hakoda winces and Bato sighs. Katara covers her mouth with both her hands, in sympathy and probably to stop herself from saying anything neither of the siblings are ready to hear. 

“Zuko,” Azula says, but she doesn’t say anything else. Zuko pulls away from Sokka and walks right up to his sister. He presses his head to her chest plate and closes his eyes against the wave of sadness and regret that crashes over him. 

_“I’m sorry,”_ he cries, words soft. “I’m sorry I did this to you, and for _nothing.”_

“You didn’t do _anything_ to me, dumb-dumb,” Azula says, placing a hand on his head. It’s heavy and cold and _not her_ , but Zuko lets it be because he’s always initiating touch with his sister, so it’s nice that _she’s_ doing it for once. “I made my own choice. We were both children. I wanted it just as much as you did. No one makes my mind up for me but me.”

It’s true, Zuko knows it’s true and has been since Azula convinced Katara to play with them when they first moved to Resembool after the war, even though Katara harbored some sort of resentment toward them since it was _their_ father who sent _her_ mother off to a war to die in. 

“Well be mad at father then!” Azula had yelled, hands on her hips, hair in two little, spiky pigtails that stood up from her head like lit torches. “But don’t be mad at us, because _we_ didn’t decide to do that. No one makes me do something I don’t want to do. And I wouldn’t want to hurt your mom!” It had taken Katara a few weeks to work through that, but she’d eventually come around and joined their games with Sokka right behind her. 

It’s like that now, Zuko surmises. He can’t carry that around forever, unjustified, just to martyr himself. He won’t be able to find the philosopher’s stone like that. He won't be able to fix this and get their bodies back like that. He nods against Azula’s armor and looks up at her. 

“I’m gonna get our bodies back. I am. I promise,” Zuko croaks. 

“I know you are,” she says, awkwardly patting him on the head. “There, there, idiot brother of mine. You have plenty of bothersome homebodies around you to care about you, so there’s no need to cry. And you’ve got me here, to kick your ass if you do fail.”

The casual, empty threat feels so normal that it makes Zuko laugh. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You needn’t bother. I won’t forget.”

“Sokka, Zuko,” Hakoda says. “Why don’t you two go change out of those clothes and get dry? Bato and I will make breakfast for everyone. You can eat something and then head to bed for the day.”

“You mean Bato will make breakfast and Hakoda will hover over his shoulder and micromanage,” Bato sighs with a grin on his face. 

“I’m still ill!” Hakoda claims. 

“How convenient; wasn’t it just a few hours ago you were convincing me you were well enough to stay up and wait for the boys?”

The two bicker as they go through cabinets and the icebox for food, Bato lighting the stove to start heating a pan. Katara comes over to them and offers a small smile. 

“I think I’m going to keep the clinic closed for the day. I’ll go into town before we eat and let Aang know, so he can put up a sign. People know to come up to the house if it’s an emergency.” She turns to Azula and cranes her head to look up. “Want to come with me?”

“You’re leaving now?” Azula asks. 

“Might as well, so I can avoid getting roped into making breakfast,” Katara says with a sneaky grin. 

“I like the way you think, Katara,” Azula says, following the other girl out of the house. 

“Isn’t that why we’re friends?” Zuko hears Katara say as the front door shuts. 

“Precisely,” Azula responds. And then they’re gone. Zuko finds himself feeling disgustingly grateful that he and Azula have all these people in their lives. 

“C’mon,” Sokka says, tugging Zuko by the hand up the stairs to the second floor. “Let’s have a bath and change.” Zuko feels himself flush at the insinuation, but wisely doesn’t point it out to Sokka or else he’d never hear the end of the dirty jokes. Sokka must be pretty tired as it is to not have already caught that mistake and started to make them. There are three bathrooms on this floor of the house, so Zuko has a quick, steamy shower in one of them while Sokka takes a bath in another. They take the same amount of time, though, and end up meeting in the hall on their way back to their respective rooms to change. Zuko averts his eyes. If he has to watch one more drop of water slide down Sokka’s slightly hairy chest, he’s going to lose his mind. 

Zuko gets to his room and changes into soft, flannel pants and a knitted sweater Kanna had made him for the last birthday of his she’d been around for. It’s in red, of course, with the alchemist symbol - a serpent hooked on a cross with wings and a crown above them - embroidered onto the front. He spends the next ten minutes rubbing his hair with the towel until he deems it dry enough to braid out of the way. He’s just brushing it when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he calls, and Sokka saunters in, barefoot in sleeping pants and a long, grey sweater that covers his hands. His hair is almost dry and also down, curling this way and that after all the rain and hot water directly after. “Give me a few minutes - I’ll braid it and then we can head down to eat together.”

“Want some help?” Sokka offers, shifting his eyes away as he asks. Zuko feels his stomach tingle - a pleasant change from the nausea and stabbing pain from hours before. 

“Um, I mean, if you want to? I don’t mind,” Zuko says, hesitating with the brush as Sokka comes up behind him where he’s sitting in front of the vanity mirror. Sokka’s hands are gentle when they take the brush and pull it through Zuko’s hair. He separates the long locks into three parts, puts the brush down, and starts plaiting them together. Zuko knows that Sokka used to help Katara with her hair after their mother died, when their grandmother or fathers were otherwise occupied. This feels different than that. Sokka isn’t his sibling and there’s no one who usually does Zuko’s hair other than himself. But Sokka is gentle, humming softly under his breath as he works. Zuko watches Sokka’s reflection in the mirror, ignores his own reflection’s features going so soft at the sight. With every brush of Sokka’s calloused hands against the nape of Zuko’s neck and scalp, Zuko breaks out into goosebumps. 

“God, your hair is so soft,” Sokka murmurs, smoothing the braid, tugging at the bottom where all three strands meet to tighten it, but always gentle in a way that Zuko never is with himself. “Thick though. This braid must weigh a _ton_. How do you not get headaches?”

“Guess I’m just used to it,” Zuko says, forcing himself not to shrug and ruin Sokka’s hard work.

“Got a hair tie?” Sokka asks, and Zuko hands him back the ribbon he uses. “Thank you, m’dear,” Sokka hums. Zuko’s stomach goes molten and he watches in horror as his reflection goes red in the face. _You stop that right now,_ Zuko thinks to himself. Sokka is just liberal with his affection. Zuko knows this. “All set.” Sokka meets his eyes in the mirror, kindly not commenting on his red cheeks. “Not half bad. I haven’t helped Katara with her hair for a while. You know, cos she gets Aang to help,” and now he rolls his eyes. “Still, for someone who hasn’t practiced for a bit, I think I did pretty good.”

It’s a little tighter and neater than Zuko is used to, but it does look good. 

“You should’ve left a bit of my hair up front out of it,” Zuko says, pulling some hair out to fall into his face. “I use it to cover my eye a bit.”

“Why would you do that?” Sokka asks, concerned. He doesn’t like when Zuko tries to hide his face out of shame or embarrassment. Zuko doesn’t like it either. But. 

“It’s easier in Central. People don’t know me and they don’t know why I look like this. In the city, people feel more entitled to stare and _that_ makes me feel worse than the scar itself, to be honest.” The pity in their eyes - it’s crushing. 

“Ah,” Sokka says. “Can’t fault you for that one. Though, speaking of Central - can I still come when you two head out?”

Zuko should say no. With Jeong Jeong’s and Piandao’s message, not to mention Ozai’s cryptic words in Dublith, everything is pointing to this trip to Central Command being a dangerous one. There are _at least_ four homunculi in Central as well, five if one counted the Fuhrer, but Zuko wasn’t willing to pass that kind of judgement on his father quite yet. Besides, Zuko knew at least _one_ of those homunculi didn’t want to hurt him, though it did happen to be the one homunculus that was currently captured and not much help. 

He should say no, not this time. He should say, next time, I promise. He should say, you could get hurt, just stay home. 

Instead, Zuko says, “Sure, you can still come.” Sokka whoops with joy. And then, because Zuko knows it’s probably the wrong choice to allow Sokka to accompany them and he has to make up for it _somehow:_ “Just… maybe bring a rifle this time?”

Sokka snorts. “Sure. I can do that.” 


	3. Central

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Azula head back to Central to discover a horrible truth - this time with Sokka tagging along. Once there, they team up with some old friends to investigate whatever is really going on in Amestris. What they find is terrifying, to say the least and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no better Maes Hughes than Lu Ten. Boom. I said what I said.
> 
> Also, there's more art in here from [ragdollnetic](https://ragdollnetic.tumblr.com/). Check out there blog to see some more!

_Zuko finishes reporting the attack to their uncle._

_“Did I miss anything, Azula?” he asks. He’d purposefully left out that the only reason they had been caught so off-guard was because Azula had suddenly blacked out. Zuko know their uncle would never judge them, so it’s not that. He just doesn’t want the older man to worry even more about them than he does now. Besides, maybe there’s just something about Central that doesn’t sit well with his sister. Iroh is only here temporarily, anyhow, for a series of meetings with all the prominent generals and those that are in Fuhrer Ozai’s inner-circle. Not that Iroh is particularly privy to that or wants to be._

_“No, I don’t think you did, brother,” Azula responds. She’s staring at the map of Central City that Uncle has pinned to the wall of the office he uses when he’s in Central._

_“That’s very odd indeed. Homunculi, you said?” Iroh shakes his head, clearly disturbed. Creating homunculi is a Taboo all its own, never mind that it was considered impossible to achieve, even with modern alchemy. “And right under our noses. The military owns most of the warehouses in that district.” Iroh falls silent._

_“Well, that can’t be a coincidence,” Azula says, still staring at the map._

_“...perhaps not,” Iroh murmurs. “There have been… whispers.” Zuko looks at his uncle, eyes wide._

_“About what?” he asks._

_“Your father, primarily,” Iroh admits, stroking his beard. “I’ve had Lu Ten poking about a bit. You know your father ignores him.”_

_“He’s just despairing that he only has_ one _amazing nephew, and not multiple niblings like you, Dad,” Lu Ten says, coming into the office, nose buried in a file folder. He looks up. “Sorry, only heard the tail of tha- Zuko! Azula!”_

_Zuko has seen pictures of Uncle Iroh when the man was in his youth, and Lu Ten looks exactly like him, just with darker brown hair and darker eyes. He’s slim and well built, and thankfully missed the draft for the Nomadic War due to his young age. He’s Zuko and Azula’s only cousin, and older than them by a decade to boot. But they’ve all always been close. When Zuko has no one to confide in because he doesn’t want to tell his sister or one of his friends something, he writes to Lu Ten. It always makes him feel good knowing he has that connection with his cousin._

_“Hey, Lu Ten,” Zuko says, smiling. Lu Ten’s eyes fall to Zuko’s automail arm, tied up in a sling._

_“Whoa, what happened there?” Lu Ten says. He puts a folder down on his father’s desk and sits next to Zuko. “That’s for one of your special projects you had me look into dad. Some_ interesting _stuff about Uncle Ozain during the Nomadic War. And absolutely_ no paper trail _that details how he was considered, selected, and implemented as Fuhrer.”_

_“This is what you have your son doing as Eastern Command’s liaison in Central? He’s a Lieutenant Colonel, for goodness’ sake. Let him do real work,” Azula snorts._

_“No way! I like being Dad’s spy,” Lu Ten laughs, winking at her. “Have a seat, little cuz, and tell Lu Ten what the hell happened here.”_

_They regale Lu Ten with their tale of the attack in the warehouse district. Something about it seems to catch Lu Ten’s attention and he nods to them._

_“I can poke around some,” he suggests to his father with a wide grin. “Not like it’s out of my way, you know?” Iroh sighs, but there’s a smile on his face already. Lu Ten lives in Central, while Iroh has his permanent housing out east, so Zuko knows he loves it when they can actually be around each other, work be damned. Lu Ten’s wife, Carmina, and his daughter, Alita, live right by Central Command, in a swanky military family complex downtown. The last time Sokka had come with them into the city, he’d struck up a quick friendship with all three Sozins on Iroh’s side of the family, sharing Lu Ten’s cheesy sense of humor and love of poetry, loving Carmina’s paintings and studio, and doting on Alita like she was his little niece and not Zuko’s._

_“That would be helpful,” Iroh says to Lu Ten. “But be careful.”_

_“Dad, I’m practically a real spy at this point. I’m always careful. And one day, Zuko and I will swap places -_ I’ll _be the Fuhrer’s son,” Lu Ten laughs._

_“You’re going to get us all arrested for treason one day,” Azula sighs. Lu Ten chuckles and thumps her lightly on the chest plate._

_“Awh, little cuz, don’t be so glum about it. I’ll look into it, see if the government’s been playing around with the idea of homunculi.” The smile on his face dims some. “That wouldn’t be good, would it?” he says, more a statement than a question. Lu Ten isn’t an alchemist like his father, uncle, and cousins - he joined the military because it felt like the family business and he wanted to be included. But being raised around so many alchemists taught him what was acceptable from them and what wasn’t. This sure as hell wasn’t, and even Lu Ten knows that._

_“It wouldn’t be” Zuko says anyway, just to validate his cousin. He pats his arm, getting up. “Alright, Azula and I are going to head back home,” Zuko says. Everyone knows that home is Resembool for them. “Sokka needs to fix my arm before we do anything else.”_

_“Oh, Sokka! Tell him I said hello. He owes me another haiku battle - he definitely cheated last time,” Lu Ten says, standing up with Zuko._

_“How does one_ cheat _at a poetry battle?” Zuko asks as Iroh chuckles._

 _“He had_ you _to look at in the room for inspiration,” Lu Ten replies slyly._

_While Zuko splutters and Iroh’s chuckles turn into laughs, Azula responds with, “Carmina was in the room, too, though. Are you saying your wife doesn’t inspire you?” It’s Lu Ten’s turn to splutter, and that just sets Iroh off even more._

_“Hey, no fair! I don’t have any siblings to defend me!” Lu Ten calls out, pointing an accusing finger at Azula. You’d think he was 9 and not 29 with his behavior just then. “Oh, but wait, before you two go, take a look, take a look! You two were off chasting a philosopher’s stone lead when we had Alita’s fourth birthday party, but I took pictures!”_

_Zuko looks at Azula and feels her look of long suffering. Lu Ten dotes on his wife and daughter like no one else Zuko has ever seen. He carries a separate wallet with him just for pictures of the two of them, and he gets the ones with the powder that show color, which isn’t cheap by a long shot around here. Still, Zuko waits patiently for Lu Ten to pull out the photos, feeling a bit guilty that they_ were _in fact chasing down a lead for a philosopher’s stone during the little girl’s birthday. They’d make it up to her, Zuko swears to himself, when they had their bodies. She’d have plenty of more birthdays and Lu Ten would be there to take plenty more pictures._

_“See, this is her in her little tutu Carmine and I got her for the party - she wouldn’t take it off all day and fell asleep in it. Isn’t she precious?” Lu Ten gushes, shoving a photo of Alita in a purple tutu in Zuko’s face. Azula is looking through a few of them, with Alita among a large group of school children who came to the party, another of her standing at the table blowing out the candles on a cake with Carmine and Lu Ten on either side of her, supporting her so she doesn’t fall where she stands on a chair. “You have to come to the next one,” Lu Ten says. “You can even bring Sokka!”_

_“Leave him out of it,” Zuko grumbles. “It sounds like you like him more than you like me.”_

_“Don’t be that way, Zuko,” Lu Ten teases. Zuko definitely shouldn’t have written to Lu Ten about his crush, god damn-it. “One day, you and Sokka will have a little girl too, and you’ll understand why I’m so excited and happy all the time.”_

_“Shut up!” Zuko whines, going to slap his hands together to catalyze a transmutation and fling something at his cousin. But he realizes he can’t with his automail arm in pieces, so instead, he kicks at the leg of Lu Ten’s chair and sends his cousin sprawling to the floor. “Ha!” Zuko crows in triumph._

_“Jerk!” Lu Ten calls from his place on the floor. “Oh, hey, Dad! I found the pen that went missing last week. It’s right by your left boot.”_

_Azula giggles beside them and Iroh sighs, fighting a smile._

_“Go get your arm fixed, Zuko. Lu Ten, report back to me on anything you find out about the homunculi. And Azula? Never turn out like these two.”_

_“Yes, sir!” Zuko and Lu Ten call out in unison, both young men saluting Iroh. Zuko is on his feet, off balance from his arm, and Lu Ten is still saluting laying on the floor. Azula sighs._

_“Don’t worry, Uncle. There’s no chance of_ that _happening.”_

* * *

By the time they reach Central, Lu Ten is already dead. 

In the span between seeing Uncle Iroh walk out of his office with a mourning band on his arm and Azula asking, “I thought cousin Lu Ten was going to meet us here too?” Zuko realizes. 

_“No,”_ Zuko growls, head bowed, metal hand in a fist. He doesn’t think as he punches the wall outside his uncle’s office. _“No!”_ he yells. 

_“Zuko,”_ Iroh hisses. “Not _here_.” He grabs his nephew by the arm and pulls him into his office, Azula following, legs stiltedly moving her forward. Iroh slams the door shut and stands there, pressing his forehead to it as he gains back his composure. Zuko takes in the sight of his uncle; he usually seems portly at first glance, like General Bumi seems hunch-backed and frail. Upon further inspection, Uncle’s paunch is revealed to be brawn, and Bumi just has horrible posture. Now, Zuko can see where Uncle has lost weight in the two weeks they’ve been gone. The band on his arm is black with the stylized military dragon logo adorning it in red. Only family members and personnel on the same team as the deceased wear them. 

Zuko looks at Iroh’s desk. There are two more bands on it, one for Zuko and one for Azula. They aren’t on Iroh’s squad, which means the only other explanation is a family member also in the military has passed. And the only other family member they all have in the military besides the Fuhrer is _Lu Ten._

 _“What happened?”_ Zuko chokes out, falling into a chair. He had sent Sokka ahead to Lu Ten’s home. All Sokka is going to see is Carmina and Alita in shambles, mourning a husband and father. Sokka is going to be all _alone_ with others’ grief. Zuko’s heart aches. 

“He was looking into the warehouse district - why the two of you would be attacked there,” Iroh says, voice thick with unshed tears. His words come out gruff and whispery. It’s all Zuko can do to listen to them. Azula is so still where she stands that she seems like a real suit of armor. “It led him to the library. And...”

“And _what?”_ Zuko snaps looking up. Uncle Iroh has made his way over to his desk. He picks up the mourning bands and turns to Zuko. 

“Between the science file room in the library and the pay phone they found him in, someone attacked him,” Iroh says, voice husky. He walks to Azula first and ties one of the bands around the upper part of her armored arm. “He tried calling me. By the time I picked up, there was no sound. I sent a team immediately but…” Zuko looks his uncle in the face and watches as the tears flow freely down his cheeks. “He was already gone. Shot several times.” Iroh’s hands shake as they tie the remaining band around Zuko’s bicep. 

It’s natural, then, for Iroh to pull Zuko into an embrace. Zuko presses his face to his uncle’s chest and cries as Iroh holds him close and does this same. Iroh extends an arm to Azula and she walks over, allowing their uncle to wrap an arm around her metal waist and hold her to him. He leans his head against her chest plate and slowly, so slowly, Azula wraps her arms around Zuko and Iroh. She’s quiet, but like a phantom tug, Zuko can feel her anguish. Lu Ten was their only cousin, Iroh’s only child, the last tie to his dead wife. Now, he has nothing, nothing but the two of them. 

“I’m sorry Uncle,” Zuko murmurs. “If he hadn’t been helping us…”

“No, Zuko,” Iroh admonishes, suddenly harsh. He pulls back to look Zuko in the face. “Your cousin loved you and wanted to help you. He would have done anything for you. Do not dishonor his sacrifice. This wasn’t your fault. There is more to this story than we know.”

Zuko wipes his face. He feels so, so awful. “Do they know who did it?”

“They’re pinning it on one of my lieutenants - Ming Yao,” Iroh says. Zuko knows Ming - she’s sweet and soft voiced, a tall woman with more muscle than Zuko, so her voice always throws him off. She’s so kind and has always been by Uncle’s side. “But that’s impossible - she was with _me_ around the time he died. Your father won’t hear my side of it and has threatened me with dishonorable discharge should I voice this.”

“What?” Zuko asks, head spinning. Why would Ozai do that?

“You think he did it?” Azula asks, finally speaking. When Zuko looks at her, she’s touching the band on her arm, adjusting it against the sharp edges of metal and leather. 

“Not him,” Iroh says, a slow anger building in his voice. Zuko watches his uncle’s face go grim, brows pulled down, eyes slit, mouth in a frown. “But I don’t doubt that he knows who did and is covering that up. He is involved in this, somehow. Don’t worry about Ming; my team is working on extracting her from Central but Lu Ten…” Iroh trails off, swallowing hard. “Whatever your cousin found, it was important.”

“And we don’t even know _what_ it was,” Zuko growls in frustration. He can’t bear to turn and look at his armband. 

“Don’t be so sure, Zuko,” Uncle Iroh says, going back to his desk. He removes a key from his belt and unlocks the lowermost drawer on the left side of the desk, pulling out a parcel. “Zuko, lock the door, please. I want no accidental interruptions or walk-ins.” Zuko frowns but does as his uncle asks. When he gets back to his seat, Iroh has laid out several blood stained papers. Azula is leaning over the desk, looking at them. 

“Are those from…?” _From Lu Ten’s body_. 

“Yes. The team that found him gave me what was on his body at the time, before your father’s _dogs_ got there,” Iroh seethes. “I haven’t looked at them yet.” He looks fragile, suddenly. Zuko swallows hard and reaches out a hand, placing it on top of his uncle’s. 

“Let me look through the papers,” Zuko says. Iroh doesn’t look at him, but he nods. 

Zuko looks at the bundle of papers, sighs, and undoes the twine holding them together. The first page is a folded up map of the warehouse district. One of the buildings, labeled with a number five, is circled. The next paper is a map of the city, with the warehouse district and several of the labs around the city also circled. Zuko lays these out on his uncle’s desk and tilts his head to the side. With Central Command in the middle of the point, it sort of looks like…

“Uncle, do you have a pencil?” Zuko asks, feeling his stomach twist with anxiety. After rummaging in the desk, Iroh hands him one. Zuko connects the military labs to each other with long lines, including the circled warehouse district. Around the center point of Central Command, they make a pentacle. 

_Exactly like in the center of a human transmutation circle._

“Oh my,” Iroh breathes. “That… that is _not_ a coincidence.”

“No, it’s not,” Zuko says, gritting his teeth. 

“So then, if those are all military labs,” Azula says, pointing to them on the map, “are we to assume that this building circled in the warehouse district is _also_ a military lab?”

Zuko blinks, not even thinking of that. He looks up at her. He wonders if she’s mourning their cousin _and_ the fact that she can’t even cry to express it. But now isn’t the time for that. 

“Good thinking, Azula,” Zuko says. “But I thought there were only four military labs in Central.”

“On paper, yes,” Iroh muses. He strokes his beard. “But perhaps not in practice. What are the rest of the papers?”

Zuko goes through them. Most of them are just notes on the different labs and what they’re up to, but suddenly, there’s a little journal in the middle of the sheets. He opens it. There are notes here, too, about different scientists. The heading they’re under says, _Nomadic War of Extermination._

“Was Lu Ten looking into scientists active during the war?” Zuko asks. He shows his uncle the notebook. 

“Yes,” Iroh says. “Because of how soon the war escalated after your father ascended to Fuhrer, I told him to look into those who would benefit from free martial reign during that time. Many scientists and alchemists who were into shady corners of the arts were allowed to carry out their experiments on the Nomads captured.” Iroh closes his eyes and a shiver shakes his body. “Maybe one of them made the homunculi. That was the thought, anyway.”

“There’s one circled,” Azula says. 

“Wan Shi Tong,” Zuko reads. “It says he was working with anatomy and was in charge of all the big projects that have since been classified.” Zuko shuffles through the floating papers, trying not to touch the now-dry blood stains. “Here,” Zuko says, pulling a sheet. “Wan Shi Tong’s profile. Lu Ten must have grabbed it from the science file room in the library before - before he was attacked,” Zuko stutters. He swallows. Even through all that fear, his cousin had _still_ managed to smuggle out important information. How long before someone realized? Zuko reads through Wan Shi Tong’s profile and gasps. “It says he was stationed at the Fifth Laboratory in Central for his research.”

“So there _is_ one,” Iroh murmurs. “It must have taken my son quite some time to find these documents, forgotten at the bottom of a box or cabinet.” He closes his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek. “They were not as careful cleaning up their messes as they should have been, and he found them out. And he paid so dearly for it.”

“This address is in the warehouse district,” Azula murmurs, taking the profile sheet from Zuko. “I’d bet it was right where we were.”

“And if those homunculi were outside it, they were guarding something. We scared them by getting too close,” Zuko says, connecting the dots. 

“Well, brother,” Azula says, putting the sheet down. A wave of malice flows to him through their bond. “Do you want to try scaring them again?”

* * *

Azula goes to their lodgings to prepare while Zuko goes to Carmina and Alita’s place - to _Lu Ten’s_ place. 

Sokka is there, weeping with them. Zuko remembers Sokka telling him he was going to do poetry with Lu Ten, that Sokka had practiced his haikus so he and Lu Ten could do a little poetry battle for Carmina and Alita. Now, in the living room, sitting on a low couch with Alita in his lap and Carmina holding his hand tightly, Sokka is shuddering and sniffling when Zuko walks in. Their eyes lock and it’s the strangest thing - suddenly, Zuko can’t hold it together anymore. 

The next thing he knows, there are strong arms around him and he’s crying into Sokka’s shoulder. He’s always been a bit shorter than Sokka and for once he isn’t bitter about it. He knows Azula is angry and that taking action is how she’s always worked through her grief, but Zuko is different. And having Sokka here, ready to offer him comfort while he’s in pain too - Zuko doesn’t know what he’d do without Sokka. He doesn’t. 

“I’m so-sorry,” Zuko stutters out, pulling away and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He bows to Carmina, but she’s already up and hugging him, an exhausted Alita all cried out and asleep on the couch now. “I’m going to get whoever did this, Carmina, I swear. We’ll figure this out. We _will_ ,” Zuko promises. And maybe he shouldn’t be making these sorts of promises but Zuko knows he won’t rest until he finds who killed his cousin. 

“What can I do to help?” Sokka says as Zuko pulls away from Carmina’s arms. Her face is creased in worry, bags under her eyes. Zuko nods to Alita and Carmina nods in agreement, going to take her to bed so Zuko and Sokka can have it out. 

“Stay here and keep an eye on them, alright?” Zuko says. “Just…” He rubs a hand through his hair, mussing the braid. “Stay out of trouble. I don’t want whoever did this to think they can come after the rest of my family.”

When Zuko looks at Sokka, it looks like he wants to argue, but something makes him hold his tongue. This isn’t the first time Zuko has alluded to Sokka being family, so it can’t be that. Maybe Sokka finally realizes how high the stakes are - someone _killed_ Zuko’s cousin, just because of what he was looking into. If this new laboratory and whatever was inside - homunculi? - were important enough to kill a Lieutenant Colonel for, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill a civilian. 

“At least tell me what’s going on?” Sokka asks. His eyes are red-rimmed and dark, all happiness at being allowed to come into Central with them gone. Zuko can give him this, at least. So he tells Sokka, about Wan Shi Tong, about his experiments during the Nomadic War of Extermination, about the Fifth Laboratory in the warehouse district. 

“I know Uncle Iroh put a protective detail of his own people on Carmina and Alita, but I want to be on alert too, alright?” Zuko says. He feels desperate more than brave at the moment, but he takes Sokka’s hand in his, standing there in his cousin’s living room, empty and never to be graced by Lu Ten’s presence again. “I know you have your rifle. Just - if you need to use it-”

“I won’t hesitate,” Sokka says, and his voice sounds so hollow, that for a moment, Zuko worries where his best friend has gone. But then Sokka is using his grip on Zuko’s hand to pull him into a hug and hold him close. Even through his grief, Zuko can’t deny his stomach is in knots over it. “Be careful, alright? And I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_ , he was your cousin, and _I’m so sorry, Zuko.”_

For a moment, Zuko pretends this is the scope of his whole world - just Sokka and those arms and his words, his skin, his warmth. Just them. 

For a moment, it’s enough.

* * *

“Azula, do you know if - ah!”

“Hey, Sparky. Long time no see - ha! Get it?”

“Toph!” Zuko yelps. He turns to Azula, sitting on the only couch their little, military-issued apartment has, oiling her joints before they all go out. “When did you get them?”

“As soon as I left Uncle’s office,” Azula grunts, focused on her task at hand. Across from her, sitting on the coffee table with her own oil can, Suki oils her wrist joints, flicking her hands into the razor-sharp fans and back to separate fingers to test their range. She sees Zuko and nods to him in acknowledgement, going back to her task. “I knew your next move would be to gather what allies we have in the city, and these two are the only ones who aren’t tied to the military that were here.” She finally looks at him, her fiery eyes staring at him from out of her skull-faced helmet. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“And Suki and I are _more_ than happy to help,” Toph says, grinning widely at him. “Since we heard our buddy _Sokka_ and his family are such _close_ friends of yours, too.” Toph wiggles her brows at him and Zuko has to wonder if she’s just teasing Suki because of her past relationship with Sokka or if Zuko is that transparent. Toph’s just 15, but she’s more than capable of handling whatever comes their way, Zuko knows, despite her blindness. He hasn’t seen someone who can do alchemy like she can - with her feet, no less, and her hands when she deems it necessary to bend the metal she transmutes from the earth into shape. “Right, _Suki?”_

Maybe it _had_ been a dig at Suki. 

“Of course, Lady Beifong,” Suki says, just to get under Toph’s skin. She may be Toph’s bodyguard, but Zuko knows the girls have more of a sibling relationship than anything else. Toph, always one to have a bit of rock on her, transmutes the one she has in her hand into a hunk of iron and lobs it with perfect aim at Suki’s head. Similar to Uncle Iroh, Toph wears braces on her hands and feet etched with transmutation circles to facilitate on-demand alchemy. Without looking up, Suki flips one automail hand into its fan counterpart and shreds the iron Toph has thrown at her apart, sharpening her blade. Toph smiles as Suki tests the new sharpness of the fan against a metal finger. “Thank you for that.”

“Looked a little dull,” Toph jokes. “So, Sparky. Azula says someone’s messing around with homunculi or something like that?”

“They killed my cousin over what he was researching for us,” Zuko snaps because this part, it isn’t a joke. A lump forms in his throat. Toph’s eyes widen, even as she looks a hair past Zuko’s face. Suki frowns, red-painted mouth pulling down, her white makeup creasing in the lines of her face. Zuko never really got why she felt she needed to stay in her odd, Xingese uniform so far from whatever noble family Toph belonged to. Honor, he guesses. 

“Oh,” Toph says, face hardening. She cracks her knuckles. “Okay then. We’re talking serious business. What’s our goal for this little excursion, besides bashing some heads together, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Good old, reliable Toph - getting straight to the point and keeping them on task. 

“We need to see how the hell they’re even making homunculi. And if there’s an answer, it’s in that laboratory,” Zuko says. He goes over to the coffee table and takes the offered oil Suki hands him to work on his arm. Just in case. “Maybe that’s where Wan Shi Tong is, if he’s even alive. There’s also a _disturbing_ pattern showing up on the map of Central.”

“Pattern?” Suki asks. Azula pulls the map of Central with the labs circled and connected on it out of her armored body, then spreads it out on the coffee table. Suki begins describing it aloud for Toph’s benefit, and as she goes on, Toph’s face scrunches in confusion. 

“That sounds like… that shape is usually the base of an array, right?” Toph says. “On a transmutation circle.”

“Yeah,” Zuko admits. Suki is squinting at the map, memorizing it for future reference, Zuko knows, since Toph can’t do it. “Specifically… for a human transmutation circle.” Suki looks up, her eyes widening. Toph’s mouth purses as she holds back a comment. 

“...you two would know, I guess,” Toph says. Alright, maybe she couldn’t hold it back. 

“Yeah,” Zuko says, rubbing the back of his neck. He swallows hard, that lump still in his throat. “Central is literally the center of this country. If the government or _someone_ has orchestrated the architecture of the city to be the inside of a human transmutation circle, in a country _literally_ shaped like a circle, we need to figure out _why_.”

“And our lead is this lab that’s not supposed to exist?” Suki says, standing. “Sounds easy enough. The warehouse district is abandoned for the most part, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” Zuko says, frowning. “Except for the homunculi.”

But Suki shrugs. “Sounds fun.”

“...fun,” Zuko echoes back to her. What the hell were their friends, anyway? 

“We’ve wasted enough time talking,” Azula cuts in. She’d been oddly silent. She must be itching to go out and just do something, to hit something and take out her grief on those she held responsible. “We know where we need to go. So let’s _go_.” 

“The lady has a point,” Suki responds with a grin. She walks over to Azula and nudges her, even as Azula stands and towers over Suki. Suki just grins up at Azula. Zuko’s not too sure what goes through Suki’s head when she sees his sister, but he appreciates the way she interacts with Azula regardless - like there’s nothing odd about her. “Shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Azula drawls, making her way out of the apartment. Suki sighs after her. 

“I love a woman who takes charge,” Suki says.

Oh. Maybe Zuko’s been looking at this the wrong way, huh. 

* * *

“For a place that was crawling with homunculi last time we were here, doesn’t it seem too… _quiet_ , now?” Zuko asks. This _should_ be the place they were attacked before. And _right_ in front of them is an abandoned lab with a big, black number five painted on the side of the cement building. The gas lamps that get lit after dark don’t shine down in the warehouse district - too much a risk with the fire and all the wooden warehouses. But the moon is out and Zuko can see. This place definitely _used_ to be a lab. 

Past tense, that is. 

“There’s something here, I swear!” Toph says for the tenth time. “I can feel it.”

“In… your feet,” Zuko repeats. 

“Nonsense,” Azula mutters under her breath. 

“You two _know_ Toph’s senses are more sensitive than your own,” Suki admonishes them. 

“More than yours too, right?” Zuko wonders. 

“Oh no, I’m too highly trained for that. I have to keep up with Lady Beifong. I can sense it too. A presence. Several of them and they are _dark_ ,” Suki replies. She’s been rigid since they walked into the courtyard of the abandoned lab. The windows of the dilapidated building are broken and dark. 

“Underground!” Toph crows. “That’s it - it’s underground.”

“The presence?” Zuko asks. His eyes widen. “Is it - is it like that slithering you and Aang feel?”

But Toph shakes her head no. “Not exactly. It’s similar, though. And very specific to under _that_ building.” She points directly to the abandoned lab. “So. Anyone see any windows?”

“Nothing _I_ can fit through,” Suki says, already scouting the area. 

“Me neither,” Azula adds. She keeps looking around, like she’s ready for a fight, but there’s no one to attack. Zuko can feel her disappointment through their bond. 

“There’s that cracked window,” Zuko says. “Toph can fit, probably.”

“The Young Lady Beifong is going _nowhere_ without me,” Suki cuts in, glaring at Zuko. Her hands are fans. Oh boy. 

“Hey, isn’t Sparky only a little bigger than me? I’m sure _he’d_ fit,” Toph throws in and Zuko opens his mouth to grouch back but Toph isn’t _wrong_ , is the thing. Zuko is only a bit taller than her and he can definitely fit through that broken window. Despite everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours, he can feel Azula’s mirth and Suki is very clearly trying to hide a laugh behind one fan-hand. 

“Fine, Azula, boost me up,” Zuko grumbles, already walking to the broken window. He can punch out the rest of the glass with his automail arm. 

“You’re just going to go in alone, brother?” she asks, following him. Toph and Suki stay in the courtyard, on alert in case anyone decides to attack. 

“Someone has to go in. It would have been easier to have someone who could sense them, but… I’ll have to be enough for now.” Zuko waits for her to stand beside him under the window. “Why - you worried?” he teases gently. 

“No,” Azula responds immediately. “Only - if something _did_ happen to you, I’d be the one who had to tell Sokka and I’m not looking forward to that. So - _don’t_ let anything happen to you,” she says, scooping him up and lifting him to the window. “For Sokka’s sake.”

“Right,” Zuko sighs, using his automail arm to clear out the glass. For Sokka’s sake.

* * *

There’s a transmutation circle in the basement of the abandoned lab. And it looks like it’s been used. 

The circle is drawn in red, the pentagon on the inside in the same color, looking just like the one Zuko had drawn on the Central City map. No one is down here, though there is an office with file upon file documenting the worst experiments Zuko has ever borne witness to. Philosopher stones - the government had been trying to _and succeeding_ at creating philosopher stones using the transmutation circles he had just seen in the lab and drawn on the city. The alchemist Wan Shi Tong had discovered the key ingredient to making a philosopher stone. 

Human lives. A philosopher’s stone was created by transmuting _human lives._

Zuko feels ill. The one thing he thought could get his and his sister’s bodies back and they had to _kill_ people for it. No, no way. Zuko could never, and he doesn’t think Azula, for all her posturing, could either. That would make them just like their father. And if this lab was here, worked by Wan Shi Tong during the Nomadic War of Extermination, then that meant Ozai definitely knew about the philosopher’s stone. 

And the homunculi. They had to be connected. The philosopher’s stone could create anything without having to follow the law of equivalent exchange. 

“It can’t be a coincidence that homunculi were found out here where they were creating philosopher’s stones,” Zuko mutters to himself, sifting through old files and stuffing the most damning ones into his shirt. At least they can have _some_ evidence. 

“Oh, it isn’t.”

Zuko holds in a yelp and ducks on instinct. The wall where his head had been is pierced by a long, sharp rod of hardened blood. 

Hama - or rather, _Lust_. 

“I told you they’d come snooping again,” Jet says. Envy. Whatever his name was. Zuko couldn’t care less. And now he’s _definitely_ hoping the real Jet is dead in an alley somewhere while this _thing_ has stolen his face because Zuko _really_ doesn’t want to have made out with this ass hat. 

“You did say so, Envy,” Hama!Lust says, sucking her rods of blood back into her body with red sparks. Zuko grimaces, clapping his hands together to transmute and transforming his automail arm plating into a sword. He pulls his other sword from its scabbard across his back. 

“Ready to dance again, pretty boy?” Jet!Envy says, that stupid piece of wheat in his mouth. “You can call out _Jet_ if it makes you feel better. That boy sure _loved_ to look at you.”

“Shut up!” Zuko yells, swiping at the homunculus. It gets Jet!Envy across the face, slicing right into the meat of his cheek. It doesn’t even bleed - just sparks and smears away a sizzle. _Fuck_. “What the hell is going on down here?” Zuko yells, springing back. He tries to look around the room without making it obvious. Where had the two of them come from? There, at the back of the room - a staircase different from the one he had used. 

Zuko rolls one way, fakes out Jet!Envy, and slashes at Hama!Lust’s ankles. She’s hardy for an old woman and does a backflip to get away from him, but Zuko holds back his own surprise and runs to the staircase. 

“Stop him! If Father knows we’ve let him go…” Hama!Lust screeches. 

_Father?_ Zuko thinks, like June had said in fear when Ozai had called her Greed and dragged her away. And maybe, if he fights them and engages a bit, they’ll let something slip. It’s a risk, but Zuko takes it. 

“Surprised something as old as you has a father that’s still around,” Zuko sneers. 

“You fool,” Hama yells. “Nothing can kill _our_ Father!” Zuko frowns - that doesn’t sound good. 

“So, what,” Zuko says from the top of the stairs. Jet is glaring at him, his own pair of hooked swords spinning in circles at his sides. “Your father tell you two to create a bunch of philosopher’s stones?” he asks. “He tell you to turn Central into a transmutation circle too?”

Jet’s eyes widen and Hama actually looks like an old lady when she gasps and grasps at her chest, right above her heart. Wisps of white hair fall into her face. 

“How the _hell_ does he know about that?” Jet growls at her. 

“How should I know, Envy? You’re the one that was supposed to be wooing him for information!” Hama yells back. Zuko throws up in his mouth a little - well, that was confirmation enough that this Jet!Envy had been who Zuko was necking with a few summers ago. Gross. But then it hits him - just how long has this been in the making?

“That was three years ago,” Zuko says aloud. “How long have you _been_ here?”

“Long enough!” Jet shouts, pulling back his arm and launching a sword at Zuko. It flies at his face with frightening speed, and Zuko barely has a moment to clap his hands together and slam the brick wall beside him, causing it to transmute into a metal shield in front of him. The sword pings off, violently shaking the metal shield as it does, and Zuko takes that moment to run out of the staircase and onto the main floor. 

He throws himself out the first window he sees. 

“Zuko!” Toph yells as he hits the ground rolling, covered in a shower of glass. 

“They’re here - run!” Zuko says. But when he looks up, he sees the problem 

“We know!” Suki yells back, swinging her fan-hands at Gluttony. The man seems to have grown in size, so large and round. When he turns, Zuko gasps at the sight of him - Gluttony’s stomach is open in a vertical mouth that disappears into darkness. He can feel a waft of air, tepid and smelling like rotting meat, wafting from the open maw. 

Suki slices at Gluttony and takes off a chunk of him, but the red sparks make a comeback and heal over the open wound. The homunculus roars and Suki nimbly jumps back, face impassive, feathers unruffled. Zuko doesn’t know how she does it. 

“He came out of the building the second you went in,” Toph says, helping Zuko stand. Her cheek is cut, her knuckles bruised. From across the abandoned courtyard, Azula is throwing metal spheres, transmuted from the brick beneath her feet, right into Gluttony’s gaping stomach-mouth. Each one is swallowed into oblivion. “We’ve been throwing everything we’ve got at him but he just keeps _eating_ it!”

Zuko frowns at her. “Are you… _impressed_ right now?” he asks in disbelief. “Really?”

“Look, if he wasn’t trying to eat us… yeah. Maybe. A little bit. You gotta admire the guy’s appetite.”

“Not real-” Toph yanks Zuko out of the way of a flying boulder. Azula doesn’t bother to apologize for her bad aim. “...-ly,” he finishes. “Suki, Azula, take cover. I’m trying fire!” Zuko yells. He hauls Toph behind him, just as Azula does the same, shielding Suki with her body, and slaps his hands together. In the next moment, Zuko sneers and aims a snap right at Gluttony. 

Except Toph yelps, going flying one way and Zuko turns, mid-snap, to find Jet coming down on him with both swords raised. 

Zuko doesn’t have time to change the direction of his snap. And he doesn’t have to. 

Jet goes flying back with the force of a bullet to the head. 

Zuko spins to the side, following the trajectory of the bullet and at the top of the adjacent warehouse, Sokka lifts his head from his rifle scope and gives Zuko a thumbs-up and that stellar smile. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Zuko grits out from clenched teeth. “I _told him_ to stay with my cousin!” 

“Shut up and set this thing on fire already!” Toph yells from a pile of rubble. 

“Lady Beifong!” Suki yelps, suddenly by Toph’s side. 

“I’m fine,” the young woman grumbles. 

Zuko takes that as his moment to snap. But his burst of flame goes off at nothing. Gluttony is on the other side of the courtyard, running full throttle down the road. Odd, Zuko thinks, since the other homunculi are here and -

“Run Gluttony!” Jet yells, standing back up. Zuko turns and almost pukes - Jet!Envy’s face is a mess from where the bullet rearranged his features with the force and spiraled projectile. The homunculus just laughs in Sokka’s face. “Missing something, Zuko?” Zuko stumbles back, unsure what he could be missing when it occurs to him. 

The files he snagged from the lab. 

Zuko pats down his chest and swears. They’re gone. The files he snagged are gone. In the midst of the fight, they must have fallen out or been snagged by one of the homunculi. _Fuck_. 

“Go after Gluttony!” Zuko yells. “Don’t lose sight of him.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Jet snaps, reaching for Zuko. His hand goes flying in an arc of blood and Suki shoves Zuko out of the way, brandishing her fan hands. Toph is beside her, a whole sheet of metal flying up from the earth by her feet. 

“We can hold him back,” Toph says. “You go get the Bottomless Pit!”

“There’s another one - Lust. She’s inside, shoots blood spears from her body,” Zuko says, running over to where Azula is already across the street, tracking Gluttony’s path.

“Then we’ll handle her too,” Suki says. She grins behind all that facepaint. “Tell Sokka I said hi,” she teases with a wink. 

Zuko rolls his eyes and ignores her. “Just get out of here as soon as we’re clear and meet back up at my place, alright?” Suki nods, then roars as she launches herself at Jet, his hand already grown back and wielding a sword. 

Zuko spares a thought to where Hama went and if the two young women will be safe, then turns tail and runs after his sister. He can see her turning a corner as she follows Gluttony, raging. He meets up with Sokka as he runs by the warehouse Sokka had been perched on. 

“You’re an idiot!” Zuko says, not breaking his stride. Sokka easily falls into line beside him. “I told you to stay with my cousin and Alita!”

“Your uncle has a team watching them - they don’t need me!” Sokka says. Zuko peeks at him from the corner of his eye, using his bond with Azula to track her more than his other sense. Sokka is dressed from head to toe in black, his rifle slung across his back. He has his tribe’s traditional war paint smeared across his face - all white like Suki’s but where she has black and red around her eyes and mouth, Sokka has black and grey, with solid lines of it down his cheeks and mouth. The washout of paint color makes his eyes pop. 

Zuko pants, turning a corner. He frowns. They’re not in the warehouse district anymore. This is the side of Central with the university and some of the other military labs. Why is Gluttony exposing himself? Then again, if he’s been masquerading as a government official - like Ozai had first introduced Gluttony as - then he could easily disappear on this side of town, even in the middle of the night. 

“You should have stayed out of it for safety. What if something happens to you?” Zuko says, looking for Azula. Sokka grabs his arm. Zuko turns.

“What if something happens to _you?”_ Sokka counters, eyes wide. He gives Zuko a shake. “What if you’re next? These people - or whatever they are - just killed your cousin. And now you’re instigating them. What if they _kill_ you, Zuko?” 

“Then I die!” Zuko snaps back. Sokka drops his hands, like he’s been burned by Zuko’s own alchemy. “Azula!” Zuko yells, turning away from Sokka. He needs to find his sister - he can’t deal with this right now. 

_“Shut. Up,”_ he hears, hissed from his left from a dark alley. 

“Azula?” Zuko calls, following her voice. He finds her on the other side of the alley, peeking around it. He looks, ignoring Sokka’s thudding steps behind him. It’s the Third Laboratory, an active one used for general research. 

“He transformed back into normal human form and ran in there with your files,” Azula says. “We need to get in there. But neither of us has clearance for this lab.”

“Uncle has clearance for all the labs,” Zuko says. “Is there a phone booth near us?”

“There’s one back up that road we just ran down,” Sokka grunts behind him. Zuko spares him a look but feels his face flush in shame when he remembers how gruff he’d been just moments ago. 

“Go call him, brother,” Azula says. “I’ll stand watch, see if he comes out. These labs have one way in and one way out.”

“As far as we know,” Zuko mutters. He scowls at Sokka and then sighs. “Come on.”

They make their way back through the alley and up the road, to the pay phone Sokka pointed out. Zuko puts a call through to his uncle’s office, asking the operator to connect him with Iroh’s team code. Sokka stands guard outside the phone booth, both young men feeling uneasy at the parallel of Lu Ten doing the same thing mere weeks ago, placing the same call on the same line. 

“I don’t want you to just die,” Sokka whispers as Zuko waits for his uncle to pick up. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagines if Sokka had been the one to say that to him after Zuko had saved his life. 

“I know. I _know_ and I’m sorry, Sokka. I just-”

“Zuko?” Uncle Iroh says down the line, and their dramatics will have to wait for now. Zuko explains as quickly as possible with as little damning detail and as much code as he can. Iroh promises to meet them within the next ten minutes. At least there’s that. Zuko hangs up and makes his way out of the booth, just to find Sokka standing there, staring out into the darkening streets. 

“Sokka,” he starts. 

“Let’s just go meet up with your sister,” Sokka sighs. Zuko shakes his head, following Sokka while so mad at himself. He’d asked Sokka to bring his rifle into the city, just in case. And Sokka had gone and defended him, had his back when Zuko needed him. Being mad at Sokka, when Zuko would have done the same thing if their roles were reversed, is just useless. 

“Hey,” Zuko says, tugging on Sokka’s hand as they near the alley. Sokka stops but doesn’t turn. “I meant it. I am sorry. Thank you. For having my back.”

“It’s your front I’m worried about,” Sokka replies, finally turning to look at Zuko with a weak smile. But it’s real and there all the same. “Just don’t scare me like that. That freaky sword guy was really close to you. And I did _not_ like the way he was looking at you, to be honest,” Sokka scoffs. 

“Yeah, turns out, I was dating a homunculus - who knew?” Zuko laughs. 

“Gross, man.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you two quite finished?” Azula butts in. Zuko hadn’t realized they were that close. 

“What is it?” he says, clearing his throat right after to cover up his embarrassment. Sokka is fighting a smirk at Zuko’s expense, but he’s not mad at Zuko anymore, so that’s gotta be a win. 

“No one’s come out of that building. At all. I know there are people working in there, but it’s after hours - shouldn’t they have left by now?” Azula says. “Is he coming?”

“He should be here soon,” Zuko says. “Any ideas when we get inside?” 

“Look for traces of alchemy covering up entrances and exits,” Azula muses. There’s something steely in her tone. She definitely didn’t have enough of beating the snot out of the homunculi earlier and Zuko doesn’t blame her. They’d barely been able to do any damage as a group on those bastards. Maybe having Uncle Iroh in on the fight would help tip things in their favor, but Zuko had a feeling that might not be the case. 

It takes another ten minutes, but Uncle Iroh slinks into the alley, as though he just happened upon his niece, nephew, and their friend. 

“Sokka, good to see you,” Iroh says, shaking the young man’s hand. He eyes Sokka’s rifle and something so sad fills his eyes. Zuko doesn’t want to keep looking. Iroh once told him that if Sokka had shown that prowess with a rifle during the war - regardless if he’d been old enough or not - the military would have sent him to the frontlines of the Nomadic lands. Zuko still has nightmares of Sokka standing in a desert, hands slick with blood, Aang dead on the other end of his scope. The eyes of a killer looking back at Zuko. 

“He went into the Third Laboratory?” Iroh muses. “They don’t do alchemical research.”

“I know,” Zuko says. “That’s why I don’t have clearance for it. But he’s in there. And he has files Uncle, files that prove the military has been ordering the creation of philosopher’s stones at the expense of human lives.” Iroh goes rigid and Sokka gasps, grabbing at Zuko’s hand, as though just their linked fingers can keep the awful truth at bay. 

“...what?” Azula says. Zuko can hear the despair in her voice. “Then how are we supposed to…?” She smashes a gauntlet into the brick wall of the alley beside her. “What are we supposed to do now? Why can’t anything just go _right_ for once?”

“Azula!” Iroh admonishes. But then his face softens and he places a hand on her shoulder, right between the spikes on her shoulder guards. “We will find a way. But first, let us get those files and anything else we can from this homunculus.” Iroh turns his gaze on the Third Laboratory with grim determination. 

“You have a plan, Uncle?” Zuko asks. 

“Something like that.”

* * *

“This is the worst plan ever,” Sokka mutters. “Is this like, a family thing? None of you can plan?”

Uncle Iroh’s version of a plan is to run in, alchemy on their fingertips, claiming an assailant had run into the laboratory while the lot of them were in hot pursuit. The truth, yes, to an extent. And the scientists eat it up, their eyes wide at seeing the famed Flame Alchemist, the Hero of the Nomadic Lands, with his nephew the Fullmetal Alchemist, and their team. It makes Zuko a bit sick, but it gets them inside and leaves them able to look around without anyone paying them too much mind. 

“There!” Azula yelps, pointing to a wall, that upon first glance, looks quite normal. But Zuko drops to his knees and he sees it too - striations, blocky and rippling across the tile of the wall. A sure sign that someone had conducted alchemy to bring the wall up where there had been none before. 

“Step back,” Zuko mutters, clapping his hands together and placing them on the wall. He turns the solid rock into a door and opens it up into a passageway of dimly lit halls, one route going left, the other right. A literal fork in the road, and their homunculus could be down either way. “Shit.”

“We split up,” Azula says, as though the answer is obvious. Zuko doesn’t like the sound of that. Aren’t they easier to pick off if they’re not in a group? “Uncle doesn’t know what Gluttony looks like, so one of us has to go with him. And if Zuzu goes with Sokka, they won’t get anything done. So, I’ll go with the sniper and Zuko can go with Uncle.”

“Hey!” Zuko yelped in unison with Sokka. 

“She has a point,” Iroh admits with a shrug. 

“And I can protect Sokka just fine on my own,” Azula says her whole armored body creaking with her shrug. “Remember - I can do hands-free alchemy now too.”

Uncle Iroh’s eyebrows go up at that new piece of information, but he lets it go. Zuko knows Azula is right, and he’d probably spend all his time worrying about Sokka if he went with him. But still. 

“Be safe, you two, okay? If you don’t find anything, meet back here in an hour,” Zuko says. Azula and Sokka nod, and with one last look over his shoulder, Sokka follows her down the left pathway. Zuko turns to Iroh and nods his head, following him down the right path. 

“Tell me more about the files and the stones - anything you remember,” Uncle Iroh asks. So Zuko tells him about the experiments Wan Shi Tong had been doing on the Nomads they captured, how the scientists at the Fifth Laboratory were able to create the stones from their the Nomads’ lives being drained in transmutation circles. 

“It was awful,” Zuko admits, shuddering. They’d snapped black and white photos of the experiments to supplement the files, but Zuko didn’t need color ink to show all the blood and gore. And at the end all there was to show for it was a stone, hardly the thickness of his finger, and the length of his thumb, capable of so much destruction and creation. 

“What would possess my brother to allow such atrocities?” Iroh wonders aloud as they make their way past room after empty room. 

“Power?” Zuko guesses. His father had always been hungry for it. “And he’s also just a di-” Zuko is cut off by the sound glass shattering coming from one of the rooms. He shares a look with his uncle and nods, cautiously following him into the room. A vase lies broken in the middle of the floor, old shelves full of cleaning supplies and tools lining the walls. “Huh. I wonder how that got-”

Zuko yells as something pierces his side and he falls to his knees, coughing blood. Fuck but he is getting _so tired_ of getting cut off every time he’s trying to voice a thought, no matter how stupid it is. 

“Uncle!” Zuko yells as Iroh goes crashing to the ground, unable to even get a round of flame snapped out. From the shadows, scuttling forward on her rods of blood like a spider, is Hama, cackling. One hand is outstretched, two fingers elongated into hardened rods of blood. One is still inside of Zuko’s side, the other is in Uncle Iroh’s back. “Uncle!” Zuko splutters as he struggles to crawl toward his uncle. 

“Now, now, no fussing, dears,” Hama cackles. She twists her blade-like fingers and Zuko screams. God, but it hurts so much. He’s so glad Sokka didn’t go with him. This could be the two of them instead, and that would be some kind of mix of tragic and bittersweet - for Zuko to die with the boy he loved. 

“But - but Gluttony,” Zuko mutters, hand still reaching for Iroh. If he can just cauterize his uncle’s wounds… “We saw Gluttony come in here.”

“And that he did,” Hama admits. “And then he ran right out. There’s so much going on here that you just don’t understand, Fullmetal Alchemist.” Hamma crows with laughter. “And it doesn’t matter if you understand or not. Father wanted you two as a sacrifice, but I’m sure we could find a few others that would fit the bill.” 

Iroh hasn’t responded and Zuko is trying so hard not to despair at the fact. In a last ditch attempt to save them, Zuko claps his hands together and snaps at Hama. With a screech, she goes up in flames, and he sees with his own eyes the bright red stone in her chest, where her burning flesh springs from anew and rebuilds her body. 

What the fuck. 

“You have a philosopher's stone?” he murmurs, black eating at the edges of his vision. Something is wet under him and when Zuko looks down, he realizes it’s his blood. He’s bleeding out. 

Hama kneels in front of him, her old, leathery skin growing right back on across the pink muscle of her face. She taps the red stone pulsing at the center of her chest, right between her breasts. 

“We all do,” she tells Zuko. “It’s our heart.” Then she stands, frowning at Iroh. “Finally, the traitor is down. I’m sure Father and Wrath will be pleased - even if we can’t use him as a sacrifice anymore.”

And as much as Zuko wants to know what this sacrifice business is, at the same time, there are so many other factors coming into play. Why would Uncle be a traitor? And wasn’t Wrath what June - _Greed_ had called Ozai? 

But then Hama is gone, out of the room and on her way toward Sokka and Azula no doubt, and Zuko is fading, fading, fading fast. 

* * *

“So… that’s a big door, huh?” Sokka says. 

It’s a bit of an understatement. Their hall had eventually led to a set of double doors that had opened onto a large, white room. On the far wall was a massive stone door with a transmutation circle carved into it. Azula is still frowning at it and Sokka nervously fiddles with his rifle. 

“You’re not going to get it to open by shooting at it,” Azula gripes, but she gets closer to the thing. “I wonder where it leads.”

“I bet if Toph and Suki were here, they’d be able to feel if it had any bad or weird energy,” Sokka says with a sigh. 

“Sure, keep bringing up your ex and her charge - that’s going to _really_ get brother to pay attention to you,” Azula snorts. Sokka frowns. 

“It’s not like that,” he says. “Suki and I are just really good friends. She understands my love of food and dangerous metal appendages.”

“Sure she does,” is Azula’s response, but Sokka knows she’s not listening to him anymore, focusing on trying to memorize the door’s pattern and circle instead. There’s nothing else in the room, certainly no Gluttony. The homunculus must have gone the other way. Sokka just hopes Zuko and General Iroh are alright. 

“Well, well, well, the little armored girl has a friend,” Sokka hears behind them. He doesn’t get a chance to look at who speaks, since Azula sweeps him up behind her bulky body in a wall of protection. 

“Hey!” he shouts, but Azula doesn’t let up. 

_“Lust,”_ Azula growls, her fireball eyes dimming to slits at the sight of …

 _“That’s_ Lust?” Sokka squawks. When Zuko had said old, he’d thought his friends lack of appreciation for the female physique had been coming into play, but Zuko had really meant it. From what Sokka can see, Lust is literally a woman in her 70s, white hair and wrinkles included. Also, the completely _wrong_ homunculus they had been expecting. 

“Where’s Gluttony?” Azula yells. 

“Long gone from here,” Lust laughs, throwing her head back with the force of it. “Oh, foolish, foolish children. You fell right into our trap. It’s a shame to get rid of such a nice sacrifice. But maybe if I just get rid of the brat with you, I won’t have to lose another one.”

Azula stills and Sokka does with her. 

“Lose _another_ sacrifice?” Sokka says. 

“Sacrifice for what?” Azula asks.”What are you talking about?”

“Oh, that pesky brother and uncle of yours. I took care of them before coming for you. Don’t be too insulted that I disposed of them first. I promise it doesn’t mean I have favorites,” Lust growls launching a blood spear at them. Azula takes the brunt of it, snapping one in half and throwing the remains to the side. 

Sokka can’t move. 

What had she just said - had she just said she _disposed_ of Zuko? 

“No - you can’t… you’re lying!” Sokka yells, feeling tears well in his eyes. The despair is so stark he can taste its bitterness in his mouth. “Azula she’s lying!”

“The Flame and Fullmetal Alchemists, correct?” Lust cackles. “Oh, I bled them like _pigs.”_

“Shut up!” Sokka screeches, pulling the handguns he keeps on his back-belt and emptying the clips into her. He’s not even looking to aim, but he’s good enough that he doesn’t have to to know that they’ve hit their mark. Still, when Sokka looks up at her through tear-blurred eyes, the holes throughout Lust’s body are slowly healing with sparks of red. 

“Sokka, stop! She can’t be hurt by your bullets,” Azula yells, reaching for him. Sokka falls to his knees, stomach lurching, body shaking. He had _just_ told Zuko he couldn’t die. Sokka had just said so, he had, hadn’t he? This must be a trick - Lust is messing with them. But as Sokka looks up at the homunculus getting ready to skewer him, he knows it’s true. She’s done it. She’s taken Zuko from him. 

“What’s the point then?” Sokka says, looking at his hands. “Azula - you, you have to run. Get out, please. Get out.”

“No!” she screams, throwing herself in front of him. Lust’s blood spears go through her armor and yank at the leather flaps laced together. She turns her head so that Sokka can see her fire-bright eyes glaring at him through the eyes of her skull helmet. “Don’t you dare give up just because he’s gone. Don’t you dare! My brother didn’t love you because you’d give up at the first sight of darkness. He wouldn’t want that. Keep it together, you spineless man!” 

“Azula…” Sokka murmurs, a hand going to the gauntlet closest to him. She can’t even cry. She can’t even mourn for Zuko and their uncle, not like Sokka can. It’s not fair. She deserves to have that, to have her body back to be able to do that, just like _Zuko_ deserved it. 

“I’m sick of people dying,” Azula says, her voice breaking as Lust starts to attack with gusto, laughing maniacally as she goes. “I miss my mother. I miss my cousin. And we couldn’t save them. I’m going to save you. I’m going to protect you, because you meant the world to him.” Her eyes flare like flame. “So stand back _up_ , Sokka!”

There’s too much to unpack there, Sokka knows. It feels like a hole’s been ripped into his chest. Zuko is gone and Azula has just said that Zuko _loved_ him. He’ll never get to know if that’s true or if Azula is just trying to get him to snap out of it and help her survive. At the end of the day though, she’s Zuko’s little sister and Sokka’s friend. He can do this. He can survive with her. 

“Okay,” Sokka murmurs, standing up on shaking legs. He doesn’t know what the remainder of his bullets are going to do for her, but he’ll try. “Okay.” He wipes his eyes and sets his jaw. “Hey! You old freak! Fuck off!”

“That’s the spirit!” Azula yells. She claps her hands together then presses them to the floor, turning the tile into a wall of stone that she sends in a wave at Lust. “That’s the spirit.”

“Do you two really think bullets and stone are going to stop me - aahh!” 

Just as suddenly as she was there, Lust goes up in flames, screeching something awful. They’re true screams of agony, as she feels each bit of skin melt in the heat of flame and regrow only to be blistered off.

Sokka feels so much hope that it physically aches his chest. Standing behind her -

“Zuko!”

* * *

“Azula!” Zuko yells. She doesn’t even have to ask - his sister snags Sokka around the waist, curls around him, and transmutes the floor into a cocoon that surrounds to keep them safe from his flame. 

Zuko has _had it_ with Lust. 

“You can’t kill me!” she screams, even as her skin regrows. Zuko claps and snaps a stream of flame at her, a hand braced against his side where she stabbed him. He’d regained consciousness and cauterized his wound, doing the same to Uncle after establishing the man was still alive, though barely. Too much confidence, Zuko thought. That, and he had also been sure he was on death’s door. Maybe the afterlife existed and his mother was watching out for him. 

Maybe the white shadow in the Doorway wasn’t through with him yet. 

“Shut up!” Zuko yells, sending more flame at her. As soon as he sees an ounce of wretched muscle or dripping organs, Zuko claps and snaps again, the flame gushing out in a stream, licking all over Lust’s form. Her wails make Zuko sick - she really _is_ feeling every bit of pain he’s inflicting on her. She’s in agony, constantly burning up under the intensity of his flames. 

Zuko had been taught by the Flame Alchemist himself, after all. He had all the accuracy his uncle had displayed on the frontlines of the Nomadic War and his own youthful eyesight to go with it. 

“Stop!” Lust wails, her voice getting reedier and higher, more desperate. She’s sobbing. And Zuko keeps burning her. She tried to kill him. She tried to kill his uncle. Maybe she killed Lu Ten, but Zuko doesn’t think so. She had these blood spears and Zuko doubts she’d care enough about covering her own tracks to use a gun, like Lu Ten had been killed with. 

She tried to kill Azula. She tried to kill _Sokka_. 

“Stay down!” Zuko yells. “And fucking die already! How many times have I burned you up?” he asks. “How much can your stone keep up with?” Because somewhere between thinking he was dead and burning his uncle to keep him from bleeding out, Zuko figured it out - if the philosopher’s stones are man-made and not natural, like Zuko had first thought, then they couldn’t be perfect as nature would imply. They had the fault of being made by men, which means they had _limits_. 

Which means, at some point, this stone is going to crack. Or so Zuko hopes. It’s all he has to go on. 

He burns her again and this time, when the flames finally die down, Lust’s skin begins to crack like porcelain. Zuko staggers and falls to his knees, his fingers blistered and burned, his side aching, even through the charred flesh. 

“You… you killed me,” Lust says. Hama, Zuko remembers, had been the name she introduced herself with all that time ago. Zuko wonders if she had a life before this, what that would even look like as a homunculus. “You killed me,” she warbles. And then she dissolves into dust. Her chest caves in last, the stone sitting amid the ash for a moment, gleaming and whole, before turning a dusky grey and cracking into pieces. 

Everything from the hands of man has a limit, Zuko knows. Even man himself. 

“Zuko!”

He looks up and there’s Sokka, running over with tears and snot running down his face, Azula on his heels. Zuko finally allows himself to collapse, falling onto his back and looking up to find Sokka’s beautiful face looking down on him. 

“Azula, Uncle Iroh - he’s in a storage room down the other hall. You need, you need to get help.”

“He needs help,” Sokka says. “Both of them do.”

“Don’t you dare die while I’m gone, dumb-dumb!” Azula yells, sparing a moment to kneel by Zuko’s head. “Don’t you dare leave me alone - that’s not how we said we’d do this.”

“I know,” Zuko gasps, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’m right here, Azula. Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not!” She glares at him with those fiery eyes, and then she glares at _Sokka_ . “You! You know _exactly_ what you need to do.” And with that, she’s gone off running down the hall to get them help. 

“You’re okay,” Zuko sighs. “Gonna have to thank Azula for watching your back while I was gone.”

“Don’t - Zuko, I thought you were…” Sokka swallows hard, tears streaming down his face, leaving clean tracks of skin through the dirt on his cheeks. “I fell apart. I’m - I’m sorry.”

Zuko wants to be mad that Sokka hadn’t been able to soldier on, but at the same time he’s so, so pleased that Sokka had really put his money where his mouth had been earlier. Sokka really holds Zuko to that high of an esteem. 

“And Azula… when we thought you were gone, she said some things,” Sokka starts, then stops. 

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Zuko chuckles which is a _mistake_ because that hurts _so goddamn much_ . “Fuck,” he mutters. “Sokka.” Sokka looks at him. Zuko takes Sokka’s hand, because he can and Sokka is his best friend and he’s in _a lot_ of pain right now. “I’m really, really glad you’re okay,”

Sokka stares at him for a moment and then breaks out into laughter that turns into tears. He pulls Zuko’s head gently onto his lap with the hand that isn’t occupied, and squeezes Zuko’s fingers tight with the hand that is. 

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay, too,” Sokka says, laughing wetly. He leans down and presses a dry kiss to Zuko’s forehead, catching strands of hair between his lips and not caring one bit. Zuko basks in it, in everything it is and could be, and sighs, content. “Don’t leave me again, okay?” Sokka says as Zuko starts to fade out. He thinks he’s earned that much. 

“I’d never go willingly,” Zuko murmurs back as Sokka presses another kiss to his forehead, one to his sweaty, bloody temple. “I’d never let them take me from you that easy.”

“Good,” he hears, and then Zuko’s out like a light.

* * *

Zuko is alive so he figures he should be grateful for at least that. Uncle is alive too and sharing a hospital room with him at Azula’s and Uncle’s Team’s insistence. Easier to guard them both, they had all insisted, and Zuko couldn’t argue with that logic. But the fact of the matter remains as this: they have nothing to show for all their troubles. Gluttony is gone with the files. Lust is dead, which means so is their closest proof of homunculi. And Azula told him this morning that the Fifth Laboratory was blown up in the night. 

Sokka, though - he’s been sitting by Zuko’s bedside since he got to the hospital and hasn’t left. That, Zuko admits, is something. But it’s something only for him. They should probably talk about the things they’ve each said and done, but Zuko knows right now isn’t the time. Sokka knows too, just by the way he silently clutches Zuko’s hand but doesn’t do or ask for more than that. 

“So, we’re fucked,” Zuko says the next afternoon. The military has deemed his and uncle’s injuries as being perpetrated by some mysterious villain half the city is looking for. All a ruse. Ozai had even come early that morning to ‘pay his respects’, though it had been very obvious that he was disgruntled at their survival. Zuko had told them all about Lust’s insistence that he and Uncle were sacrifices. Azula claims Lust had called her that as well. Just another mystery to add to the pile. 

“Maybe not?” Sokka says. He’s been stewing over something all day. Maybe now he’ll tell? “Azula, do you still have a map of Central on you?” She’s been sitting, brooding in the corner like some ancient, foreboding piece of decor. But now, she unclasps the breastplate of her armor and reaches inside to fish out the map Zuko’s already drawn on. She brings it over to Sokka, who finally lets go of Zuko’s hand with an apologetic smile, and unrolls the map across Zuko’s legs. From his own bag by his feet, Sokka pulls a measuring tape, measures his foot, and then starts measuring from the Third Lab on the map in increments. It takes him a few minutes, and Zuko is scowling at the map the whole way, but in the end, Sokka ends his measuring right at Central Command. “I thought so.”

“You gonna explain?” Zuko asks. “What was that?”

“I counted my steps when we were inside the Third Lab,” Sokka says, putting the measuring tape away. “It’s not perfect - the hallway curved a bit - but based on my foot size, and what a foot is translated to on the map for scale…” Sokka shakes his head. “Zuko, the white room Lust attacked us in? With the transmutation doorway? It’s _right under_ Central Command.”

The only sound in the room is Azula’s armored body creaking as she drops to the floor to sit in shock and Uncle Iroh’s soft snores in the bed beside them. 

“I knew it,” Azula whispers, the sound echoing in her helmet before reaching Zuko on the bed. “I knew it. It’s him, whatever this is _it’s him_ . Our own _father_.”

“Do you think he…” Zuko can’t even say it. He’s struggling to swallow past the bile rising in his throat as he remembers Ozai’s comment when they were in Dublith: _Do hurry back to Central, Fullmetal Alchemist. I’m sure your uncle has much to tell you._

“What? Do I think he had Lu Ten killed?” Azula snaps venomously, suddenly so loud in the room. “Of course I think that. And if mother hadn’t died of disease right before our very eyes, I would have suspected him of that as well.”

Sokka’s hand is squeezing Zuko’s again, and for that Zuko is grateful. He’s glad Uncle is asleep as they discuss this. Realistically, Zuko is sure Iroh already suspects his younger brother of this familial murder, but to hear others suspect it aloud is something else altogether. 

“So… what do we do? March in there and demand he explain himself?” Sokka muses aloud. He snorts. “Yeah, I don’t see _that_ going well for us. Especially because you’re still healing and so is your uncle. If it came down to a fight, and it probably _would_ -”

“We wouldn’t be winning,” Zuko finishes with a sigh, falling back into the flat hospital pillows. 

“I’d rather not see that happen again,” Sokka murmurs beside him. Zuko frowns. 

“Hey, I _totally_ won that fight. Lust is gone, isn’t she? And I’m alive.”

“Barely,” Azula snorts from the ground. She pulls her large knees up against her chest-plate and rests the bottom of her helmet on the tops of her knee guards. “If we had something - _anything_ to bargain with, maybe we could pull something like that off. But as it stands…”

It’s then that there’s a creak, the squeal of metal rubbing against metal, and then a crash as something - or rather, some _one_ falls out from the ceiling vent above Zuko’s bed and right onto his hospital bed (and his legs). 

It’s _Toph_. 

“Well that sucked,” she mutters, rubbing her elbow where it has smacked against the vent cover. She pats the bed until she finds Zuki’s knee and squeezes it, her three companions staring at her in a shock she is unable to see. “Please be Zuko.”

“That is, indeed, Zuko,” Sokka says, breaking out into a smile. “Toph, why are you falling out of vents?”

“Lady Beifong?” Suki’s voice filters down from the vent. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Toph hollers back, rolling her eyes. “Worry-wart.” A moment later, Suki’s boots appear from the vent, and she’s hopping down and to the floor, narrowly missing kicking Sokka in the head in her descent. “Took you long enough.”

“You’re quite a fast crawler,” Suki teases. “Like a parasite or vermin.”

“And I’m sure your face matches that description too,” Toph lobs back with a grin. 

“You’re okay!” Zuko exclaims, smiling himself. “I was wondering - neither of you picked up the phone to our apartment when Azula called from one of the hospital phones earlier.”

“We… only just wrapped up our business,” Suki admits, looking at her nails even though they’re made of _metal_ and can’t get dirty. “We caught a rat.”

“You caught a rat?” Sokka asks. Toph is patting down the bed and slaps at Zuko and Sokka’s entwined hands. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself - what’s _this_ new development?” Toph yelps, pointing an accusing finger at the both of them. 

_“So_ not the point,” Sokka says instead. “You said you caught a rat?” Zuko is wondering too. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Show him, sweet cheeks,” Toph says, snapping at Suki. Suki nods, grinning a bit at the nickname, and from her billowing green robes, she pulls out a glass jar, the lid poked with holes. And inside…

“That is _not_ a rat, Suki,” Azula says. She stands up and goes over to the older girl, bending a bit to be able to see into the jar clearly. “What _is_ that?”

“The homunculus you left us to fight,” Suki says, giving the jar a shake. Inside, a worm-like, green creature the size of a rat and covered in slimy skin, centipede arms, and bulbous eyes screeches and scrabbles at the smooth glass surrounding it. 

“That’s _Jet?”_ Zuko screeches. God, but his romantic experience with this guy just keeps getting worse and worse the more the situation develops. Beside him, Sokka smothers a laugh.

“I thought his name was Envy?” Suki asks.

“And I thought it was weird that my ex tried selling me a used wagon,” Sokka replies. 

“He’s not my ex! We didn’t even seriously date!” Zuko yelps. He takes his hand from Sokka’s and drops his head into it. “This is awful. How the hell did you two turn him into _that?”_

Suki looks at Toph and Toph turns in the bed to face Azula. The two young women shrug. 

“I think I hit him hard enough with rocks and metal until he couldn’t focus enough to shapeshift parts of his body anymore,” Toph says, picking at her ear with a pinky shoved down the canal. 

“And I kept hacking him to pieces with these until he was too exhausted to regenerate,” Suki says, flicking her free hand into its fan form. She sends a grin Sokka’s way. “They’re holding up, by the way. Thanks. Good to see you, Sokka.”

“Glad to hear it,” Sokka says with a sunny smile. “Good to see you too.”

Zuko purposefully doesn’t think too hard about their interactions. Sokka is allowed to be friends with his exes. Hell, _Zuko_ is friends with Sokka’s ex and he knows _exactly_ why Sokka would still want to be friends with her. 

“So we have this one, do we?” Azula asks. She sticks out one gloved hand. “Suki, may I?”

Before Zuko can caution her against that, Suki hands over the jar and Azula immediately begins shaking it. They all wince as Envy ends up plastered to the side of the jar. 

Toph grimaces. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“Tell us who’s responsible for all of this and where we can find them!” Azula yells at the jar. She shakes it again, and Suki wraps her metal hands around Azula’s gauntlets to still them and prevent her from giving the jar another shake. 

“Maybe we give the shaking a break?” Suki suggests, mouth pulling into a hesitant smile. Azula can’t actually frown with her helmet’s expression frozen in the shape of a skull, but Zuko can feel the frown radiating from her very being. 

“Fine,” Azula grumbles. “Talk, you worm!” she yells to Envy in the jar. 

“Alright, alright!” Envy squeaks, voice tinny and frightened. “It’s Father, Father made us all. This wasn’t my idea. I don’t even like the little scarred freak!” Zuko tries not to let the comment get to him, but he sees the fire of Azula's eyes flare a split second before she goes to throw the glass jar against a wall. Suki catches the jar before it hits, lightning fast and agile.

“Who the _fuck_ is your father?” Azula roars. The ruckus is enough to wake Uncle Iroh, who sits up in his bed with a snort and winces in pain. 

“Uncle!” Zuko calls. Iroh blinks at them, probably trying to figure out when so many people got into the room with them. 

“We have company, it seems,” Iroh says. 

“We have a homunculus in a jar, actually,” Toph tells him, flicking ear wax off her fingers. She waves in Iroh’s general direction. “Glad to see you’re alive, General.”

“Always a pleasure to see you, Lady Beifong,” Iroh responds. Toph sticks her tongue out at the title, but Iroh has always been respectful. “And a homunculus in a jar, is it?” He strokes his beard. Zuko is so, so glad to see his uncle awake. He knew Iroh was alive, could see the rise and fall of his chest, hear his snoring and crackling breathing, but it’s different to have his uncle awake in front of him, alert and thinking and _helping_. God, they need so much help. 

“You said your Father made you all do this… do what?” Suki asks the homunculus in her hands. She quints at it. “I’ll give you back to Azula,” she threatens. 

“Leave the armored giant out of this!” Envy squeaks curling up in a corner of the har. Zuko growls at the thing, but then again, so does Azula. He catches Sokka’s tiny smirk and ignores it for now. “Father wanted us to go after the Sozin siblings. They’re our sacrifices - and I don’t know for what, so don’t ask! Father only trusts Pride and Wrath with that information.”

“Does this sacrifice have anything to do with our city being the center of a transmutation circle?” Iroh asks calmly, face grim, lips pursed. Zuko had almost forgotten, even though the map is lying right across his knees. 

Envy squeaks out a laugh. He actually has tears in his bulging eyes. Zuko doesn’t like it. Everyone in the room goes tense - Azula stands up straighter, Suki’s hand goes to one of Azula’s forearms, and Toph folds her arms across her chest. Even Sokka’s hand goes tighter in Zuko’s hand. From his bed, Uncle Iroh repeats his question. 

“I said, does this sacrifice have anything to do with our city-”

“You think this is about your _city?_ ’ the little, green homunculus cackles. All eight of his centipede arms fly out at his sides. “This has to do with the whole _country_ \- the whole _world!”_

“What do you mean?” Zuko shouts. 

“Central is the center of a transmutation circle that spans the whole country, you fool!” Envy shouts back, his little hands all pressed to the glass of his jar. Those bulging eyes go red. “And I don’t know what Father plans to do with you all, but I will enjoy watching you all burn for it.”

“That’s enough,” Iroh calls from the other side of the room. Suki looks at Zuko with wide, wet eyes and a trembling lip, like she’s going to cry herself, and he’s never seen that look on her face. But she nods to Iroh and stashes the jar away in her green robes. The fabric is thick enough that they can’t hear Envy’s squeaks of defiance. 

“...the whole country,” Sokka whispers. Zuko looks at him, those blue eyes wide and afraid, but his mouth set in determination to _do_ something about it. 

“Um, Snoozles, were you listening to that booger? The whole _world,”_ Toph says. She looks 15 to Zuko - small, fragile, a _kid_. 

Only two years older than her, Azula stands behind Toph in all her armored glory, Suki’s hand back on her forearm. She’s silent, but Zuko can practically hear the cogs turning in her head. He has a feeling he knows exactly what she wants to do and he can’t find it in himself to disagree with her. 

“He said their father only trusted two others - Pride and Wrath,” Azula says. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees. 

“Wrath, like what they keep calling our father,” Azula continues. “And we were attacked under Central Command - father’s headquarters.”

Zuko nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yep.”

“So we should go return what seems to be father’s,” Azula says, gesturing to the folds of Suki’s robes where their little monster is stashed. 

“I mean, yeah. Probably,” Zuko agrees. He feels Azula’ smile in that white beyond while everyone else, including their uncle, tenses to disagree. 

“What is wrong with you?” Sokka gets out first. “He wants to kill you. Or kidnap you and then sacrifice you - which is _still_ killing you.”

“I’m with Sokka on this one,” Suki says, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She cranes her neck to look at Azula. “Why are you going to give them what they want?”

It takes a moment but then Iroh says, “Oh,” softly, like he’s just realized. “They’re waiting.”

“Exactly,” Zuko says. Toph kicks him in the shin and motions with her hand for him to go on. “Don’t you see?” Zuko says. He sighs, frustrated. This is one big mess. “They have the transmutation circle set up already at this point, if we’re finding it, I mean. Maybe it’s not completed but it's getting close. And still, they’re holding off… why? It must mean they’re waiting for something else. Like, I don’t know. The right conditions. Or-”

“Or the right day,” Azula chimes in. “And while they’re waiting, that makes them vulnerable. It means we can go in and make demands and they can’t threaten to get rid of all of us because we’re still needed.”

“But some of us won’t be,” Zuko says. He turns to Sokka. “Which means you, Suki, and Toph are going to stay here, and Uncle, Azula, and I are going to go confront our father to make a trade with Envy for information.”

It couldn’t be creepier if they timed it - Sokka, Suki, and Toph all pause for a moment before erupting into a laughter as erratic as Envy’s was. 

“Oh, man, that’s - that’s _funny,”_ Sokka cackles, wiping at one eye with his free hand. Beside him, Suki pats his shoulder, her body shaking as she continues to laugh. 

“For once, our senses of humor align,” she tells him. 

On the bed, Toph’s tiny frame shakes the whole mattress. “You Sozins - whoever said you weren’t funny never heard you talk.”

“We’re serious!” Zuko snaps. 

Their laughter is abruptly cut off as Sokka snaps back, “So are we!” without a hint of mirth in his voice. Suki’s face is bereft of any smile in record time. It’s a little creepy how serious she goes so quickly. Toph just has an eyebrow raised. 

“We’re coming,” she says, blowing a strand of hair from her face where it’s been tickling her nose. 

“And if you try to stop us, we’re just going to follow you,” Suki adds. “You know we can.” Her resulting grin is both wide and threatening. Women are absolutely terrifying; Zuko has no idea how people can be attracted to them without getting too scared. Maybe that’s half the fun?

“I do not approve,” Iroh says, leaning back into his pillows. He grimaces in pain, a hand gingerly on his bandaged chest. “But I do not think that I can refuse any help being offered to us.” He turns to his niece and nephew, both radiating irritation. “Children,” he says, though not unkind, “we must hold those who care about us close, and accept that which they freely give. If it came down to it, wouldn’t you rather die surrounded by those that you love?”

And Zuko can’t help it. His eyes flick to Toph nodding her head so hard it makes her headband slide down her face, to Suki sighing at the sight with warm fondness, to Azula staring at uncle but focusing too much on where Suki’s hand hasn’t left her arm, and finally, _finally_ to Sokka, who’s looking right back at him, eyes so deep, heart so full. 

“You might have a point,” Zuki softly concedes. 

* * *

Zuko will admit - it looks like a flair for the dramatic is a family trait. 

They discharge themselves from the hospital against medical advice, put on their uniforms, and waltz into Central Command as a unit, demanding to meet with the Fuhrer. A few of their father’s lackeys try to stop them, but Iroh barrels through them, outranking them all. Even Zuko outranks a few of them; as a state alchemist, he carries the military equivalent of a major, so when he tells one of the Fuhrer’s closest captains to fuck off, the man has to slink away with his tail between his legs and a venomous look in his eye. 

“I - but General Sozin, the Fuhrer is preparing for a very important meeting right now,” their last line of offense to get through says. It’s just the Fuhrer’s adjutant, a second lieutenant that looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. 

“There is no meeting that takes precedence over this one,” Zuko snaps, losing his patience. The woman looks at him and frowns.

“I’m sorry - who are you?” she asks. She’s eyeing Azula’s hulking body rising up behind him, a bit skittish when she takes in Suki’s metal hands, Toph’s alchemy braces, and Sokka’s rifle in its case on his back. “Are you - are you the Fullmetal Alchemist?” she says. 

To _Azula._

“What? No, that’s me!” Zuko shouts, even as his friends and family clear their throats far too loud to hide their snickers. Just because he’s not _fully_ metal like Azula and clearly shorter than her doesn’t mean he’s any less of an alchemist. _He_ has the state certification. “And I’m the Fuhrer’s son - Zuko Sozin, so I _demand_ to see my father!” he shouts. 

“Zuko,” Uncle Iroh cautions. Even he hadn’t raised his voice when throwing his weight around as a brigadier general.

“I’m sick of this - let us in or I’ll do it myself,” Zuko says, ignoring his uncle. He feels a hand on his arm and when he turns to tell whoever it is to fuck off, he softens at the sight of Sokka. Sokka shakes his head and Zuko takes a deep breath, calming down. He can do this. He won’t let his father get to him. “Please,” he adds. 

The adjutant looks to the side, where Uncle Iroh is standing, and eventually decides this isn’t the way she wants to go out. She takes a step back to the door, knocks, and calls, “Sir, there are people here to see you,” before going back to her desk. She shakes her head like she can’t believe this is happening. 

“Thank you,” Zuko tells her, before steeling himself and bursting through the Fuhrer’s office doors, his team close behind him. 

“Oh, Zuko,” Ozai says, sitting at his desk and doing paperwork, like he was expecting this and couldn’t care less about the intrusion. “And I see you’ve brought guests. How thoughtful of you.”

“You can knock off the crap, father,” Zuko snaps. The scar tissue around his eye begins to twitch, and he hates that it happens, but he knows within the next minute it’ll stop. It always does this. “We have a few questions and demand answers.” 

Ozai snaps the pen in his hand in two. Zuko swallows so hard his throat clicks, but he doesn’t step back. In contrast, Azula steps forward. She knows how scared he is, and she feels that way too, but she won’t leave him to it alone. No one else will either, as the rest of their team takes a step forward with them. 

“Who are you to demand answers of me?” Ozai says, voice tight and controlled. He’s still sitting, holding one side of the pen, ink bleeding onto his hand from it’s jagged center. 

“Doesn’t matter who we are,” Zuko bites out. “We have something you might want back. And we’re willing to make a trade.”

On cue, Suki pulls out the glass jar with Envy’s green, wormy shape wriggling about inside. 

“Help me, Wrath! Get me out, get me out. These kids of yours are crazy!” Envy squeaks out. 

There’s a moment of dead silence, with no recognition on Ozai’s face. Zuko wonders, for a brief moment, if they’ve been wrong and their father really _is_ innocent. 

And then.

“Envy, you useless piece of trash,” Ozai growls. Zuko is baffled and ashamed at the stab of betrayal that goes through his heart at those words. It proves that their father is really involved in whatever this is. Had some small, naive part of Zuko really thought that Ozai of all people was innocent in the end?

“Please Wrath, you can’t let them!” Envy begs, scrabbling at the glass. So much for the tough act Envy had put on for the rest of them. “And anyway, they’ve put stuff together about the transmutation circle already an-”

“Can it, you freak!” Toph yells. “Suki, shake him!”

“No!” Envy squeals as Suki rattles the jar up and down as fast as she can. 

“Enough!” Ozai yells, standing up so fast his chair goes flying behind him and into the wall. Everyone, save Iroh, jumps. Ozai stares them all down, a tall man with a long face and the meanest eyes around. They land on Iroh, a sneer on Ozai’s lips. “And you brother? What did you come for?”

“Answers,” Iroh replies, eyes bright. “About this. And my son,” Iroh growls. 

“I draw the line at any sort of familial murder,” Ozai says, waving his brother’s threat away. “I’ll let you figure out the rest for yourself.” He leans forward before Iroh can reply and depresses a button on his wooden desk. The wall behind him hisses, an outline of a door appearing before it as whatever mechanisms in the wall moved. Zuko can feel Sokka vibrating with excitement and astonishment. The hissing stops and the door outline stops shaking and slides to the side to reveal a dark rectangle into the wall and down underground. 

“What the hell is that?” Azula snaps. 

Ozai doesn’t look at her. He simply turns to the newly made doorway and begins descending the steps. He stops a foot or so in. 

“You demanded answers, didn’t you?” Ozai shouts behind him. Zuko just stares at the doorway, unsure of what the hell is going on or why it’s happening. “Come along, then.” And back down Ozai goes. 

It takes a moment, but it’s Uncle Iroh who says, “Let’s go,” and snaps his fingers to spark a flame to light their way. Azula and Zuko do the same, Toph following suit in a bid of kindness. It’s not hard to follow Ozai or catch up to him - there’s only one way down. Iroh is at the head of their line, keeping a decent way away from his brother, and Suki brings up the rear with Toph in her line of sight. 

Down they go, deeper still. Without their fire, Zuko fears he would have tripped endlessly into the center of the earth. Zuko knows people don’t necessarily believe in that nonsense about going to the center of the earth anymore; it’s 1914 after all. But still, with how deep they’re going and how Zuko’s ears are popping with the pressure change, he’s wondering if those mystics weren’t all that wrong. Maybe something _is_ here, at the end of all things, _inside_ all things, sleeping and waiting.

It happens with jarring swiftness. One moment they’re on metal stairs, and the next, Zuko is tripping on a stone curb, his boots hitting earth. He looks to Sokka, eyeing the area around them suspiciously. It looks like a cavern. Ozai walks into the darkness and Iroh follows, Zuko and Azula, along with their friends, following too. The path widens out so that Zuko and Sokka can walk mostly astride Iroh. After a handful of minutes on dirt, the tunnel comes to an end, a hole in the wall opening to somewhere. They take turns climbing through and the tunnel they fall onto is made of metal, like a sewer. The walls are old and rusted, an awful stench coming from _somewhere_. Suki and Toph immediately tense. 

“What’s wrong?” Sokka asks, even as they jog a bit to catch up to Ozai, who marches on. 

“That sick feeling Aang can feel too?” Toph says. “It’s here.” She shivers and puts a hand on her abdomen, groaning at the nausea the feeling is giving her. “Gross.”

“Up ahead,” Suki says, looking even paler than her white face-makeup makes her. “Right where your father is leading us,” she says to Azula. The metal of her armour is shaking, but Zuko doubts anyone else is noticing it. 

“I’m not going to let anyone do anything to you Azula,” Zuko swears. “Alright?” He bumps her arm with his shoulder and Azula nods her head, the spikes on the top of her helmet quivering with emotion. “Good.”

Eventually, Ozai stops at a large, metal door built right into the tunnel wall. The feeling must be particularly intense, because both Toph and Suki are looking sweaty and ill. Ozai barely turns his head to address them.

“I expect you to behave with the utmost respect and good behavior,” he says, words sharp and stern, as though speaking to a group of schoolchildren. It sends a streak of ire right through Zuko’s whole body, but before he can express it, Ozai is opening the door and walking through. All Zuko can do is run after him and hope there are no elaborate tunnels on this side of things. 

To his relief, there isn’t. Instead, a large cistern opens up before them. Metal tubes and wiring create knots and webs on the ceiling and walls around them. They all lead into the same place: the center of the room, where a metal desk surrounded by tables of equipment and metal boxes, alchemy tables with smoking beakers and vials. There’s a chair in the middle of the mess and someone sits in it. 

Ozai walks within six feet of the sitting figure and drops into a bow. 

“Father,” Ozai says, speaking to the floor. “Our sacrifices demand an audience with you.”

Zuko’s hackles are rising, all the hair standing up on his arms and neck. The figure is shrouded in darkness. It looks like they’re wearing a long, swathing robe of. He can make out long hair, down to the ground, a long beard to match, both startling white, and such piercing eyes glowing red at him from the shadows. 

“That,” Toph whispers behind Zuko, taking a step forward to hold onto the back of his red coat. “The squirming souls are coming from whatever is in front of you.” Her voice is so breathy and shaky. Zuko can feel her small hand clenched in clothes. 

“But it’s just a man,” Zuko whispers. Sokka falls into line close to his right side while Azula does the same at his left. Suki is standing behind him with Top. Iroh is standing in front of him. And the figure on the chair is just… waiting. 

“That’s more than a man,” Iroh replies, voice raised so Ozai and the mysterious figure can hear him. “Come into the light, so my nephew can see you.”

Bold words, Zuko thinks, but the figure moves. Ozai does not, and it makes Zuko want to squirm in apprehension. Step by step, the figure comes closer. By the time they hit the light, Zuko is more confused than afraid. 

It’s Sozin - Zuko’s great-great-great-great-however-many-times grandfather Sozin, the Sozin they get their surname from, the Sozin who _should_ be dead. But instead, he stands tall and proud in front of them all, towering over Ozai’s bent frame. Zuko only recognizes the man by the paintings that are up all over the presidential suite of Central Command where they lived when his mother was alive. Come to think of it, Ozai only started putting those up once he became Fuhrer and they all moved.

Zuko steps forward with Azula so they’re standing on either side of their uncle. When Zuko sneaks a look at the man’s face, he looks more disturbed than anything else. 

“What… is this?” Zuko says. “Who are you? You’re not our ancestor Sozin.”

“I am not,” the man before him croaks. In the light and out of the shadows, his eyes are the same shade of gold as Ozai’s, Iroh’s, Zuko’s, and Azula’s. It’s uncanny, then, that he claims not to be the same man they were all sired from. “I was made of his blood.”

Oh. Well, alright then. 

“...how?” Zuko asks. Iroh’s eyes are trained on Ozai, making sure he can’t do anything. Azula is still, and Zuko can’t read much from her. But her fiery eyes still blaze in the slits of the helmet, so she hasn’t disappeared into the white shadow realm. 

Sozin’s double - the one the homunculi call _Father_ , raises a brow. It’s so dark, darker than Ozai’s hair. It makes Zuko feel puny. 

“We hail from the great land of Xerxes.” Xerxes, Zuko thinks, the land that alchemy was invented in. “There, your ancestor Sozin was a slave whose blood was used to create me: the first homunculus.”

“You’re a _homunculus?”_ Zuko gasps. 

“How?” Azula yells, snapping from her stupor. She takes a step forward, but a hand on her arm stops her. When she looks, it’s Iroh. “Let go of me, he’s just a man!”

“A homunculus,” Iroh corrects her, eyes still on his brother’s prone form. Ozai really isn’t bothered. “And we know they are no ordinary beings.” That seems to make her hesitate. She stands down. 

“Xerxes was destroyed thousands of years ago,” Sokka pipes up from beside Zuko. Zuko turns on him to shut him up - he’d honestly forgotten the others for a moment - but Father’s hawk-eyed gaze lands on Sokka and he slits his eyes. “Was that you?”

“Who is this?” Father hisses. His eyes roam over Sokka, Suki, and Toph. “Extras. I have no use for them.”

“But he’s right,” Zuko butts in, if only to take the man’s attention from Sokka and his friends. “Was that you? Did you destroy the city that founded alchemy?”

“I live in this skin that looks so like your ancestor’s _because_ I destroyed Xerxes. Their king was greedy and desired eternal life. I gave him what he wanted - turned the country into a transmutation circle and sucked the lives from those who lived in it.”

“But that’s - that’s done to make a philosopher’s stone!” Azula exclaims. “Where is it then? Is that how you made the other homunculi?” Father tilts his head and looks her up and down. Zuko feels sick at the way this _thing_ is appraising his little sister like a piece of meat. 

“Dear girl, I _am_ the philosopher’s stone,” Father replies, calm as ever. “And those from Xerxes live forever - _in me._ ” Father smiles slowly. His teeth look like tombstones, far too big for any human mouth. Zuko feels vaguely sick. 

“You - _you’re_ the stone,” Zuko murmurs. Iroh takes a step back from Father, and the rest of them follow suit. There are so many tubes and wires, Zuko almost trips, but Sokka catches him. He has a feeling they’re in over their head. If _Father is_ a stone in living form, then he could have easily formed as many homunculi as he wanted right from his own body. Which is probably what he did. 

“I created my children from my stone core of hundreds of thousands of souls,” Father states, strutting back and forth, in front of his throne of tubes and wires. Some of them connect to his body, attached to scabby, bloody, metal ports jutting from his skin. “I took those emotions of humans that pestered me - your deadly sins, as it were, and created _life_.”

He sticks a hand out at Ozai who suddenly straightens and turns. In a flash, he’s before them, a sword at Iroh’s throat. From the darkness, a tall man in a general’s black and red uniform walks out. His hair is brown and pulled back, his sideburns large and ugly and eating up his face. From the ceiling, a round body drops down. When it turns, the salivating maw and lanky black hair of Gluttony stare back at them. At least Gluttony’s stomach is closed. 

“You destroyed my Lust,” Father says, taking a step toward them. They all shuffle back, Zuko trying to keep them all together. “You’ve weakened my Envy,” Father continues, frowning at Suki. He sticks out a pale hand and, similar to Lust, a rod of hardened blood shoots out into her robes. It tears through the side of them and into her skin, causing Suki to yell out as the jar with Envy inside is forcibly taken from her. Father takes his hand and Envy’s jar back, but doesn’t liberate the homunculus. “Disappointing,” he murmurs. 

“Suki!” Zuko and Sokka yell together, turning. But Toph is supporting Suki’s side and she isn’t bleeding too heavily, so she’ll live, at least. If they can get out of this cistern and away from Father, that is. “What do you want from us?”

“I want you to be good little sacrifices and stop meddling,” Father growls. He throws Envy’s jar and Gluttony catches it, swallowing it for safekeeping. Zuko does _not_ envy Envy. 

“No!” Azula snaps. “Last time you made a country into a transmutation circle, everyone died for _your_ philosopher's stone. What are you planning now?”

Father’s smile slowly unfolds across his face. Zuko sees the resemblance to their family - everyone has the same eyes, that same self-satisfied smirk. Even he does. He hates it. 

“Is that what this is? You thought you’d get answers? That I’d allow you to misbehave?” Father tsks. “Pride? Fetch Greed.” The general behind Father bows and strands of shadow shoot out from his body and into the tubes and wires around them. They pop back out a moment later with June in hand. 

“Stop manhandling me, you spineless whelp!” she snaps, struggling. She’s still covered in her carbon ultimate shield. 

“Who are you calling a whelp?” Pride yells back, shaking her about. 

_“Pride!”_ Father shouts. Pride immediately stops, reining his temper in. He comes up to Father, Greed wrapped in shadows that all seem to be springing from Pride’s body. Some have red eyes that stare at Zuko and his friends. It’s unsettling. 

“...General Zhao?” Iroh says incredulously, looking at Pride. Pride grins widely. Zuko has heard of General Zhao - not the best strategist, better at following orders than giving them, but absolutely brutal on the battlefield. The man has never given quarter. Now, Zuko knows why. 

“You’ve infiltrated the military,” Zuko says. He swallows nervously. Beside him, he can feel Azula’s anger coiling up inside her like a cobra about to strike. 

“Infiltrated?” Father repeats. He bursts into loud, raucous laughter. Ozai doesn’t bat a lash, sword still pointed to his brother’s throat. Pride stays still and June rolls her eyes, even as Gluttony salivates and pats his stomach where he’s hiding Envy. “I _am_ the military. There has never been a version of your government that _didn’t_ have me pulling the strings. All of your generals and commanding officers have been dragged in, one by one, with empty promises of everlasting life and an undying army should they allow us to create a transmutation circle of this country.”

Zuko swallows hard around the lump in his throat, fighting the despair. All the higher-ups in Central were with Father? He’d orchestrated everything from the inception of the country? Wait. Since the inception of the country. That means…

“How long has the country been a transmutation circle, then?” Zuko asks. 

“Zuko,” Sokka cautions. 

“No! Let brother ask. How long?” Azula repeats. 

“It’s always been,” Father answers easily enough. He motions for Pride to bring June forward. “I created Amestris for this purpose.”

Zuko feels bile burn the back of his throat. He’s been living a lie. Nothing in their country is real. All the wars they’ve instigated over the centuries - this was the end result, he realizes. They’d taken land from the Aerugians, from the Cretans, _from the Nomads_. All for this. To have a transmutation circle, sealed with blood, to commit the ultimate sin. 

“Lu Ten realized,” Zuko says aloud, voice small. He chokes back a sob. “He was in the archives before he was in the labs. He must have been looking at skirmishes and wars Amestris instigated, put together that someone has slowly been making blood seals all around Amestris, _as_ Amestris.” Zuko feels some sort of ugly rage twist his gut. He looks up at Father and roars, _“And you killed him!”_

It’s not smart, but Zuko launches himself at Father in a fury. 

He’s immediately seized by the tubes and wires around them. They encircle his wrists and ankles, pulling him into a star shape with all his limbs stretched from his body. Sokka has pulled his rifle, but Gluttony is on him, Suki, and Toph in a moment. Azula goes to assist, but another shadow limb flies out from Pride and smacks her to the ground, holding her there. She squirms like a bug pinned to a table. 

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel Lu Ten poked his nose where it needn’t have been poking,” Father says, voice level and calm, like he’s _bored._ Zuko struggles against his bonds, tears blurring his vision. Lu Ten was his cousin, his _family_ . And this bastard wearing his ancestor’s face talked about it like he had something better to be doing. “And we disposed of him. It doesn’t matter who did it, just that it was done.” Father directs the tubes to lower Zuko to him, so they’re face to face. Those eyes burn with malice. “I will show you what I do to those who misbehave. And then you and your ilk will _not_ misbehave. Pride!”

Pride drags June, kicking and struggling against the shadows as much as Zuko is against the tubes. With a swipe of his hand, Father throws Zuko back into the air and lifts a giant kiln, steaming and giving off a sizzling heat. From this high up, Zuko can see that it’s filled with molten material, reddish orange and hot. Sozin nods his head to it and Pride lifts the shadow with June in it right over the lip. Zuko’s stomach knots. 

He doesn’t know June well, but he knows she didn’t hurt either him or Azula when she could have and that she _hated_ Sozin as much as Zuko did. She doesn’t deserve this. 

“Greed,” Father intones, as though he’s just going through the motions. “Apologize. Come back to us.”

“Fuck off, Pops,” June says. “And my name is June, by the way, you dickhead.” Then she spits. Somehow, it still manages to get splat in the middle of Father’s forehead. His temple twitches. 

“Drop her,” he snarls to Pride, who does just that. 

He hears everyone yell, even Uncle Iroh, even Azula. But June doesn’t. She laughs as she’s submerged in lava, her shield bleeding away, burning up until she’s nothing. Father doesn’t even bother looking at her die; he simply walks to the kiln and turns a knob on the front until a tiny drop of jiggling red drips from the spout. The drop stays on Father ’s fingertip and he walks back to the group being watched by Gluttony. 

“You’re a monster,” Azula growls. Zuko can see it, just when Father is going to snap at her. But Azula makes a mistake. She shifts her weight to right in front of Suki and Toph, and _that’s_ what gets Father’s attention. 

“Ah,” he muses. “I see. You humans. So sentimental.” Instead of grabbing Azula, he grabs _Suki_. 

“No!” Azula screams with Toph and Sokka. 

“Leave her alone!” Zuko yells, struggling. Iroh makes a move and Ozai’s blade knicks his throat. Ozai shakes his head, his eyes burning red. The way he moves his head now, Zuko sees it: the ouroboros tattoo on his neck, marking him as a homunculus. Eventually, Zuko will figure out how his father was able to have children _and_ be a homunculus. 

Father has Suki lifted by tubes, just like Zuko. Taking the little red drop that was June, he places it on the tip of one of his blood spears and stabs it into Suki’s chest. Zuko yells just as loud as Sokka, who can’t run to his friend’s aid or else Gluttony will attack him and Toph. 

“Try and attack us, watch what happens to your friend,” Father says, observing Suki as she twitches and shivers wrack her body. She starts to scream and her eyes open, irises completely red, just like the sparks from the homunculi. 

“What are you doing to her?” Zuko yells, thrashing in his bonds. Father lifts Suki so that she’s level with Zuko, so he can see the whites of her eyes and her mouth foaming blood. “Stop it, stop!”

“I am making her a homunculus, fusing her life force with that of my own - with my blood, _the philosopher’s stone_ ,” Father says. He flourishes a hand at Ozai, just barely keeping himself from running his brother through. Iroh’s nostrils are flared and he keeps looking desperately over his shoulder with his eyes, trying not to move his head, trying not to give Ozai an excuse, any excuse. “How do you think I made your _father_ into one?” Father asks. “One needs only to find a body that can withstand the transformation. And then super healing and abilities are theirs.” 

_So that’s how he did it_ , Zuko thinks. A strange man offers you invulnerability and the top seat of the government in exchange for your unwavering loyalty? Of course Ozai took that deal. 

Father drops Suki to the floor below them. Zuko can see thick veins of shimmering red crackling over her exposed skin and healing over in an endless cycle. Toph isn’t yelling anymore, just seething and vibrating in anger. 

“She lives or she dies, and if she lives, she won’t be the woman you knew,” Father says with a shrug. “I care not if Greed survives the melding either - if she does, then she’ll keep watch over you all for me, as she should. If not, well. It doesn’t matter.”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you!” Sokka yells, leveling his rifle at Father. By the kiln, Pride snorts. Even Ozai rolls his eyes. Gluttony just stares and salivates. 

“Try,” Father says, and before he finishes, Sokka’s put a bullet between his eyes. Zuko gasps as the bullet is pushed out by healing flesh, sparking the same red that radiates from Suki’s face. Father hasn’t even twitched from the impact. Sokka lowers his rifle, jaw clenched. 

“What’s the point of all this?” Zuko asks, even as Suki stills on the floor, twitches of power rattling her body. 

Father looks up at him, seems to remember he stashed Zuko up so high, and lowers him to the ground. Sokka runs forward to untangle Zuko from the tubes and wires. He has tears in his eyes. Zuko wishes Sokka had stayed in Resembool. 

“I want you to behave. All of you,” Father says, looking at Azula who is hunched around Toph, just in case. “You too,” he says to Iroh who’s glaring openly. “I need you three - at least - for future purposes.”

“You won’t tell us what you’re going to use this stone for, whatever stone you want to create from the circle of Amestris,” Zuko says, leaning heavily on Sokka. Father doesn’t answer. “You just want to sacrifice us, and expect us to let you?”

“I’ve already taken one of your friends,” Father says, nodding to Suki’s prone body. “And one of your family.” He shrugs and Zuko smarts at the thought of Lu Ten. “I can take more, if you’d like?” He snaps and Pride jogs over, looking bored and somehow devious. “Pride. You’ll watch the Resembool boy, won’t you?”

Zuko’s eyes widen as he turns to Sokka, who’s pointing to himself, a silent _me?_

Pride rolls his eyes. “Yes, you, you imbecile child. I am one with the shadow.” The shadow arms spread from Pride like some midnight sun. “I will be everywhere you go.”

“Oh great,” Sokka mutters under his breath. “Just what I need. A literal second shadow. Lick rust, buddy.” Pride doesn’t respond, just sneers and snaps all those shadow appendages back to him. 

“This won’t stop me from trying to unseat you,” Iroh says in response. He’s not looking at Father though, but directly into Ozai’s eyes. Ozai presses his blade deeper into Iroh’s neck. Blood trickles down the older man’s skin, soaking a bit in the collar of his uniform, but neither brother makes a sound. Ozai smiles. 

“This means nothing to me. Continue to unseat my Wrath, if it pleases you,” Father says. “I’ll lock you up like your ancestor if you continue to displease me by misbehaving,” Father continues to Iroh. 

Zuko straightens up, making eye contact with Sokka. “The _real_ Sozin is still alive?”

The homunculus Father grins, dark and menacing. “He’s a sacrifice too. And even after I’ve taken all from you, I won’t kill you until the time is right. I can lock you up forever, if I have to, just like I’ve done to him.” Zuko swallows hard. 

“Can we still look for a way to get our bodies back?” Azula says, still shielding Toph from Gluttony’s drooling maw. “If you need us for your sacrifice and won’t kill us, but are holding our friends hostage, at least let us continue our search for a way to be whole again.”

Father contemplates it and then shrugs, turning back to his chair. He waves a hand at Ozai, who sheathes his word in the blink of an eye, leaving Iroh clutching his bleeding neck. Pride walks back to the chair where Father sits, standing on his right side. Ozai goes to stand on the left. Gluttony rolls over to lay by Father’s feet. 

“I care not where you go. As long as you keep your mouths shut about my goings on, then your friends will live. When the time is right for our sacrifice, we will find you,” Father says. The homunculi stand together, like some obscene and twisted family portrait. “Remember, you still answer to the military.” He grins, his teeth glinting in the lowlight. 

Iroh walks over to where Zuko and Sokka stand, the three of them glaring at the homunculi. Azula walks over with Toph and then runs over to Suki’s body. Zuko can tell she’s breathing, but there’s no way of knowing who will be inside when Suki opens her eyes - Suki or June. Azula lifts her gently and brings her over to their group. 

“So we can leave?” Zuko asks, unsure now. 

“You may,” Father says. “But we’ll be watching you.”

“I have one last question,” Zuko asks. Sokka starts swearing under his breath. 

“Really?”

Zuko ignores him. “Toph, Suki, and one of our Nomad friends can feel some sort of sick, spiritual energy under Amestris. It’s coming from you. What is it?” Zuko knows what it is. But he needs to hear it. 

“The souls of the Xerxans, trapped inside my body, _fueling_ me,” Father says, smiling again. “Isn’t it lovely? I can send that energy all throughout Amestris to start my sacrifice. I can use it to block your alchemy, your city’s alchemists, _everyone’s alchemy_ .” Zuko feels a shiver of fear run down his spine. Father can stop their _alchemy_ from working? What would Zuko have, then, if not his alchemy? It’s everything to him, at this point. He’s nothing without it. “Anything else?” Father asks dryly. 

“No,” Azula says, answering for them all. “Let us the hell _out_ of here.”

* * *

They make their way back out of the tunnels, into the Fuhrer’s office, and out of Central Command. Iroh ignores the squawks of lower-ranking officers as he climbs into his car, neck bleeding. Suki, Toph, and Sokka go inside with him. Sokka squeezes Zuko’s hand once, and lets Iroh drive them to his home on the outskirts of the city. Zuko agrees to walk with Azula. 

They go in silence. He knows she’s worried about Suki. 

“What do we do now?” Azula asks him, finally, as they walk up the steps to Iroh’s townhouse. They stop just short of the front door. Zuko sighs, rubbing his temples. He has no idea, honestly. 

“I don’t know,” he tells her. They won’t be able to speak freely about much with Sokka since Pride is keeping tabs on him. They have no idea how Suki is going to be when she finally comes to - _if_ she comes to. They don’t know why their country is going to be sacrificed, only that they’ll be the catalysts in some ritual. They have no allies in Central besides uncle and his team. Maybe those generals who are posted in the four corners of the country are clean, but how could they even begin to explain what’s going on to them in order to rally them? “But we have to do something,” Zuko admits, knocking on his uncle’s front door. 

When it opens, Katara is there to greet them. 

“Katara?” Zuko asks, even as she throws her arms around him in a hug. He hugs her back, too shocked to do anything else. She pulls back from him and wraps her arms around Azula’s waist, pressing the side of her head to Azula’s chestplate. “What are you doing here?”

“Aang and I came to find you all! We headed to your apartment but no one was there, so we came here instead. Just in time, too. Your uncle was pulling up with everyone.” She pulls away from Azula, frowning. “They locked Sokka in a dark closet and then told us what happened.” She swallows hard, eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry about your cousin.” She looks at Azula, patting a large arm. “And Suki. She still hasn’t woken up.”

“And Sokka, is he alright?” Zuko asks, walking onto the first level of the townhouse. Katara and Azula follow, the former shutting and locking the door behind them. 

“Besides being miffed that we have to shove him somewhere dark where no shadows can find him every time we want to talk about something serious? He’ll be fine. He spent some time in the closet - he knows the drill. He’ll survive,” she jokes, though it falls a bit flat. 

“Why are you and Aang here?” Zuko asks as he walks up to the second floor, where the living area is. They find everyone in the parlor, Suki stretched out prone on a low couch, Toph sitting on the floor by her, Iroh sitting at a desk, furiously going through maps and papers. Aang is sitting by a closet door, chatting away with, Zuko presumes, Sokka. 

“I’ve decided to share Gyatso’s notes with you and Azula!” Aang shouts, scrambling up from the floor and launching himself at Zuko. He tackles Zuko in a hug and Zuko hangs on tight, suddenly dizzy with happiness. Something has _finally_ worked out in their favor. It feels like it might be a dream. 

“Why?” Azula asks, sitting by Toph near Suki’s couch. Zuko wants to snap at her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he’s honestly curious too. 

Aang pulls away from Zuko and plops down in Azula’s lap, shrugging. “I thought a lot about what you and Sokka said, Zuko. If alchemy really isn't’ a sin as seen by our Avatar and just a sin seen by the Nomads as people, then I don’t see why I can’t just give the notes to you and be done with it. Take it out of our hands, so to speak. I’ve been having some enlightening discussions with our head monks, cross checking documents from our end and the earliest historical documents from alchemy. Sokka’s theory is checking out - which he’s _super_ happy about.” Aang rolls his eyes now and sighs. “So, if you really want to see if it can help you get your bodies back, then I don’t see why not. You can have it.”

“Aang,” Zuko says, kneeling in front of their friend. Aang flushes and rubs the back of his neck, looking away. “Thank you. Thank you so much. We…”

Azula puts a large gloved hand onto Aang’s head. “You monk’s aren’t entirely useless.”

“She means thanks,” Zuko says with a wince. 

“I know!” Aang says, smile wide and cheerful. 

“So… can we have it, then?” Zuko asks. He looks around the parlor, even to uncle’s desk. He doesn’t see any notebooks or journals. Then again, Iroh keeps throwing papers around and scribbling things down on a map, so maybe it’s somewhere over there?

“Uh,” Aang starts, looking sheepish. His shoulders are by his ears and he’s turning red again. “About that…”

“Zuko!” Uncle Iroh calls from his desk. Zuko looks at Azula, frowns, and stands. He knows their uncle can hear what they’re speaking about and how important it is that they get that notebook. It must be important if he’s interrupting them. 

“Yes?”

“I meant it when I said that the homunculi wouldn’t stop me,” Iroh says, pulling out a box from one of the many draws in his wooden desk. He rummages a handful of something out of it, but moves his hands in a way that none of them can really see what it is. “And I need your help.”

“Uncle…” Zuko starts, but he stops. One thing Father _wasn’t_ wrong about - Zuko does still answer to the military. And while uncle is on their side, he _is_ Zuko’s commanding officer, as a soldier and an alchemist. “Yes Uncle.” It seems that there are notes on Iroh’s desk but when Zuko steps closer and looks again, all he sees is a pai sho tile. Had that been what was inside the box? On the front of the tile is a white lotus. 

Oh fuck. _Pai sho_. Jeong Jeong’s message. Zuko is an idiot. 

“Uncle, wait!” Zuko says, holding up a hand. “This might change your orders.” Zuko scrubs his face. Katara walks up beside him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“What is it?”

“Uncle, when we were in Dublith, in the south, we were there to see our old masters, Jeong Jeong and Piandao,” Zuko starts. Already he sees the interested gleam in his uncle’s eyes. “They gave us a message to give you. I’m sorry - I would have told you sooner, but when we got back…” He trails off. Lu Ten was dead when they got back and this whole mess had started in earnest. 

“I understand, nephew,” Iroh says, always patient and calm. He breathes out heavily through his nose. “And you are correct in assuming this may change my orders. Go ahead, what did they say?”

“They said they’re ready to play pai sho with you anytime. You just need to ask.”

Iroh is silent. He sits back in his chair for a moment, contemplating. Then he looks at the map on his desk and makes an X over the south with a graphite pencil. 

“Then instead of heading south, I need you to head north,” Iroh says. He takes the pai sho tile and pops it into a white, paper envelope that he closes with his own wax seal. Zuko takes it, turning the thing in his hands. “I need you to deliver that to General Pakku, up north at the Briggs Wall.”

“Up north?” Zuko squawks. 

“To the wall of Briggs?” Azula squawks herself. “Ugh, General Pakku is _the most_ asinine-”

“Oh man, is there gonna be snow? I’ve never felt snow!” Toph chimes in. She’d been so quiet, Zuko had forgotten she was there. But he turns and there she is, still sitting on the floor by Suki’s couch. 

“Snow is the best!” Aang chimes in, turning to her. He’s still in Azula’s lap. “It’s really cold and wet, but it’s softer than ice!” 

“And what are we supposed to tell soldiers and commanding officers when they ask us _why_ we’re in Briggs?” Azula asks, depositing a squirming Aang onto the floor by Toph. He grumbles but allows her. Azula makes her way over to stand on Zuko’s other side, opposite Katara. 

“The north and east are doing training exercises this spring,” Iroh says with a shrug. Zuko feels his stomach tense with apprehension though; while the north and east posts usually _did_ do training exercises with each other, he had a feeling his uncle was planning something far more insidious and active than that. “I am simply getting in touch about the details.”

“That’s six months away,” Zuko says softly, looking for confirmation. 

“It’s never too early to start planning,” Iroh responds, something like steel in his voice. “Can you do this?”

“Yes,” Zuko sighs. “But after uncle, please, let us study the notebook from Aang when he gives-”

“Uh, right, like I was saying,” Aang cuts in. He scrambles up and runs to their little group in front of Iroh’s desk. “The notebook isn’t actually here.”

“What?” Zuko yelps. 

“I take it back - you monks _are_ useless,” Azula grumbles, crossing her arms with a shimmy and shake of her armor. 

“No, wait, hear him out!” Katara says, going to stand by him. “It makes sense, I promise.”

“I had to hide the notebook from the other monks,” Aang explains. “Regardless of who deemed it so, it’s still a sin to practice the arcane arts as a Nomadic monk. So when we were looking for a place to settle when we first came to Amestris, I hid the notebook in the first place we stopped.”

“Which was?” Zuko asks. 

“The north,” Aang tells him and isn’t _that_ convenient? “There are a lot of Nomadic slums out there, so the group of Nomads I was raised with went there first. They didn’t like the cold, so we ended up emigrating down to Resembool, but I hid it in an abandoned shack outside North City.”

“That’s right outside of Briggs,” Azula murmurs. “We can kill two birds with one blade.”

“I think it’s stone?” Katara suggests. 

“What’s a stone going to do to a bird?” Azula insists. “Nothing! A blade will ensure your victory over both your avian foes!”

“Sounds like a road trip. I’m in!” Toph calls. Zuko turns to her. 

“But, Suki?” he says, gesturing to their prone friend. She hasn’t even twitched. 

“What, are you leaving tonight or something?” Toph scoffs. “Give us a day or two, okay? She’ll wake up, I _know_ she will.” There’s a fragile edge to Toph’s voice now. She turns to Suki, her back conveniently to them. “She’s gonna wake up because she’s my _bodyguard_ and she _wouldn’t_ leave her Lady Beifong to go galavanting in the north all by herself, now _would she?”_

It’s a little freaky, then, that as soon as Toph finishes, Suki sits bolt upright and gasps. Toph jumps back at the sound, and everyone, even Iroh, runs over to her, pushing her back from Suki’s shuddering frame. 

“Let me go, she won’t hurt me!” Toph says as Azula scoops her up and sits Toph on her shoulders. 

“It might not _be_ her anymore,” Zuko insists. He swallows hard once Suki’s body stops moving. He takes a step forward, Aang at his side, ready to back him up. “Suki?”

She blinks a few times and then looks at them. Her irises are a pinkish-red. Zuko holds his breath. 

“Who the hell are all of you?” says a voice from Suki’s mouth that is decidedly _not_ Suki’s. 

“Uh, guys?” Sokka’s voice comes through the closet door. “I heard yelling - is everything okay? I can’t really hear any of you in here.”

And Sokka’s still in the closet. _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homunculi are as follows, for reference:  
> Lust = Hama  
> Envy = Jet  
> Pride = Zhao  
> Gluttony = Warden of the Boiling Rock Prison (Mai's Uncle)  
> Sloth = Combustion Man (Sparky Sparky Boom Man)  
> Wrath = Ozai  
> Greed = June


	4. The North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and his friends head up North to the Briggs Wall and General Pakku, then plan to make a straight shot to Gyatso's journal outside North City. But the homunculi throw a wrench in their plan and Zuko starts to get a glimpse of what, exactly, his uncle and allies have been planning. When they finally reach Gyatso's notebook, the gravity of the truth contained in it will _literally_ change Zuko's world forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen LISTEN. Does Major General Armstrong deserve _better_ than having Pakku have her narrative spot. Yeah, of course. But is it _hysterical_ to me that misogynist Pakku fits best in a general that is a woman's narrative spot? _Yes, of course._
> 
> Just a reminder, Combustion Man is Sloth in this tale. 
> 
> FMAB had a lot of plot stuff going on, so I used my creative license to try and have it make sense in this context. Have mercy. And if things don't make too much sense, just know that in the show, it gets dicey too.

“This is stupid,” Sokka says for the upteenth time. 

“I know,” Zuko responds, like he always does. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sokka grumbles, burrowing into his fur-lined parka. 

But it _is_ Zuko’s fault. If Zuko had just made Sokka stay back in Resembool, there wouldn’t be a homunculus haunting him. Zuko wants to tell him so, but they’ve had this argument on and off over the last week and he’s just tired of it at this point. Especially because Sokka doesn’t listen anyway. 

They’ve made it to North City, with Briggs just an hour away by cart or car. The train ride had been interesting, to say the least, and then some. Their party consisted of a wild cast of characters. There was Zuko with his long braid and red coat, far too young for the state alchemist’s watch he carried; Azula as a living suit of armor with glowing coals for eyes; Sokka with his rifle and automail tools; Katara with her bag of knives for alkahestry; Aang with his Nomadic tattoos and clothes; Toph in her alchemy braces and obvious distaste for the snow boots they’d gotten for her; and Suki, continuously muttering to herself in heated argument. Most of the train goers had given them a wide berth, so they had a whole section of the cart to themselves on the way up.

Getting to North City had consisted of making several train transfers until they finally got off and walked out onto the snow. The first thing Zuko had done was slip down the station stairs, landing in a snow drift at the bottom. They’d all had fun with that. And now, the trek up to the Briggs Wall - the largest fort and wall Amestris had ever built, standing between two mountains and sealing off the country’s northern border from their enemy across the pass, Drachma. 

And running the Briggs fort, the Wall himself: General Pakku. 

Azula had been correct - General Pakku had a reputation for being snide, testy, and a misogynist to boot. Zuko isn’t really looking forward to meeting up with him, but he has to deliver Uncle’s message first, before they go looking for Gyatso’s notebook. Aang seems to remember where they are pretty well, so Zuko isn’t worried that they won’t be able to find the shack the notebook is in. What he’s more worried about is General Pakku asking questions that Zuko and Azula can’t really answer, not if they want Sokka and Suki, and by extension Toph, to remain safe. 

In Sokka’s case, everyone has avoided speaking about any plans, messages, or otherwise around him. Pride’s shadows can materialize around Sokka to snoop at any moment - it happened multiple times on the train ride up when most of them were sleeping - and if Pride catches wind of any of the details of whatever Uncle is planning, then Zuko knows they’ll have no chance at survival. Uncle has already promised them that he’ll loop them into the plan when the time is right. But every time they really need to speak about what’s going on, they have to leave Sokka in a different room or space, or else everyone sits in the pitch black dark where there are no light sources to create a shadow out of. Sokka thinks it’s stupid - hence, his earlier (and constant) complaints. 

In Suki’s case. Well. 

“God, is the Imiq kid complaining _again?”_ June says with Suki’s mouth and red eyes. Suki’s eyes go back to their usual shade when she answers. 

“Of course he is! We have to exclude him from everything because _your brother_ is an asshole!” Suki yells to herself. 

About that. It seems that June hadn’t been able to take over Suki’s mind completely. Now, both women - the body's _real_ soul and the homunculus - were sharing a space. Zuko thinks that in a fight it could be useful. June can heal herself and make the ultimate shield across Suki’s skin for protection. Suki is an amazing fighter and can sense the odd energy the homunculi give off. On top of it, June isn’t keen on spying for her Father. After a brief moment of amnesia, her history with her family had come back and June had refused to either answer to Greed _or_ do anything to help Father and the other homunculi out. 

“He _is_ an asshole,” June agrees, Suki’s eyes flashing red. “They’re _all_ assholes.” She sighs. “Sorry kid.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole too, but at least you’re not killing us,” Sokka mutters, pulling his hood around his face. They’re all sitting on the back of a cart, heading up the mountain towards Briggs. One of the North City locals had been kind enough to take them on, awkwardly taking the money Zuko had given her. He’s a state alchemist and has enough to go around, after all. Sokka is on one side of him, their legs hanging off the side of the cart. Suki/June is on his other side, with Toph sitting behind her, dozing against her back and wrapped up tight in the softest, fluffiest coat, lined with mink fur that Aang had been eyeing in distaste. Speaking of, Aang and Katara were sitting up front with their driver, chatting away and making the whole journey less awkward. Azula is lying by Toph, staring up at the sky. 

“How much longer?” she calls to their driver, cutting Katara off. 

“Azula, rude!” Katara snaps. 

“We’ve been on the road for hours!” Azula complains. Zuko gets it, he does; he wants to be done with this errand for Uncle and going after that notebook as much as she does. They had discussed possibly splitting up, with Zuko making the journey to Briggs alone while the others went for the notebook together. But it had been pointed out that maybe, in these dangerous times, it was best to stick together. That had been Sokka, and he had been looking at Zuko’s still-healing side. 

Point taken. 

“We’ll be at the road up to the Briggs Fort within the hour,” their driver replies kindly, half turned to tell Azula. “Don’t you worry, young lady.” Zuko can feel the pleasure and embarrassment at the address radiating off Azula. 

“What are we supposed to do for another hour?” June groans. Zuko is starting to pick up on her tone versus Suki’s. 

“Take a nap?” Toph mutters sleepily behind her. “And shut your big mouth? Suki speaks a lot quieter than you and I’m beginning to appreciate it more.” She thumps June on the back, but Suki is the one who yelps. Of course June would swap places with Suki right as Toph was getting ready to smack her. “Whoops. Sorry Sweetums.”

“It’s fine, Lady Beifong. I could use a nap,” Suki says with a stretch and yawn. “You’re pretty warm at my back for a half-pint.”

“I dare you to say that to my face,” Toph mutters. “But later, when I’m not tired.” She snuggles back up against Suki’s back and drifts again. Suki turns, pulling her legs into the cart, and scoots herself and Toph closer to Azula. She strikes up a soft conversation with the armored girl, Toph dozing between them. It leaves Zuko and Sokka alone. It starts to snow. 

“What _are_ we going to do for the next hour?” Sokka asks.

“We can’t talk about any of our plans,” Zuko reminds him. “So I don’t really know.”

“We can talk about other things, you know,” Sokka reminds. When he looks at Zuko, his cheeks are red from the cold and his nose is runny. Snowflakes catch in his eyelashes. “How’s your automail?”

“Holding up,” Zuko admits. “Thanks for the upgrade. I’m liking the carbon alloy. It’s lighter than the steel.”

“It won’t take as much damage as the steel,” Sokka reminds with a half-chuckle. His brow crumples and Zuko senses it the moment Sokka gets serious. “So, be careful, ok? I… I don’t want to be kneeling over your broken body again.”

“...I never apologized for that,” Zuko says. He wants to say, _you kissed me - not like_ that _but I wanted you to._ But he doesn’t say it. 

“Why would you apologize?” Sokka asks, eyes wide in surprise. “That wasn’t your fault - you _saved_ me.”

“And I’d do it again,” Zuko assures him. 

“I wish you wouldn’t have to.”

“I’ll do it this time too. I’m not going to let Father and Pride get away with this. I know you get lonely when we have to leave you to discuss our plans. I know you feel like you’re holding us back-”

“Because I am!” Sokka exclaims. He gets a smack to the back from Suki who’s glaring when they look over at her. She hushes him and points to Toph, all cozy in her coat and asleep against Azula’s armored chest. It’s adorable. Zuko wishes they had one of those fancy cameras with them. But it would take so long to set up and the cart was bumpy and could break one of the glass plates they needed _and then_ they’d have to wait to get the image developed. Who even had time for that?

“You’re not holding us back,” Zuko continues, voice lowered. He stares at his own gloved hands, one to stay safe from the cold, the other to avoid frost from forming on the metal of his fingertips. He looks at Sokka’s hands, in warm mittens Bato had made him a year back. Resembool winters never got too cold, and snow was rare, but Bato is from the north and loved to craft northern things for them all. “You save me too,” Zuko says.

Sokka snorts. “Yeah, right.” But Zuko sees him peeking from around his hood to look at Zuko. “When?”

“Everyday,” Zuko tells him, feeling bold with just the two of them back here, and the snow. He reaches out and takes Sokka’s mittened hand in his, squeezing. “Just by sticking around with us.”

“I’m always gonna stick around,” Sokka tells him, fully facing him with wide eyes. 

“One day, you’ll have to have your own life,” Zuko points out, trying not to feel too bittersweet about it. He wants Sokka to be able to move on from all of this, but is it too much to ask that Sokka moves on with _him?_

“Yeah, I will,” Sokka agrees. Zuko feels Sokka squeeze his hand. “And I hope you’re a part of it.”

Zuko’s mouth goes dry. That sounds… that sounds a bit romantic if he’s being honest. But he wonders if Sokka meant it like that. Sure, they were holding hands, but sometimes Katara held his hand or even Toph, and it was never meant like that. Then again, Sokka had kissed him when he was injured under Central Command. But it _had_ been Zuko’s forehead, not his mouth. God, why couldn’t he just get an accurate vibe from Sokka when it came to … to _them?_ If there even was a them. 

Zuko feels like an idiot. 

“...I mean, uh, if you want to be. No pressure!” Sokka continues and Zuko realizes he’s been dead silent. “We uh, we probably need to talk about some things, you know? Like. Like what happened under Central Command. And - and me being with you in the hospital.” Sokka’s cheeks are rouge, and not from the cold this time. He’s looking away, _blushing_. Zuko feels giddy all of a sudden. He squeezes Sokka’s hand and bumps their shoulders together. 

“Yeah,” he says, ducking his own head. Maybe this isn’t as one-sided as he feared. “Yeah, we can talk about it. Maybe after we get the notebook and head back to warmer weather?” Zuko suggests, trying not to hope too hard. He’d almost _died_ , he realizes, and Sokka would have had to go his whole life not knowing that Zuko wanted him in so many ways and… and _loved_ him, loved him so dearly. That’s unacceptable. 

“Okay,” Sokka agrees. When Zuko looks at him, his smile is wide and lopsided. Sokka looks like a goof, but maybe he’s Zuko’s goof and that’s enough for Zuko. He’s not brave enough to kiss the smile on Sokka’s face, but one day soon, after they talk, Zuko thinks he might be. 

They spend the rest of the ride in silence, just holding onto each other. 

* * *

The cart driver leaves them at the foot of a snowy trail leading up, up, up into the Briggs Mountain Range. Her cart and horse can’t handle the steep incline and besides, she doesn’t trust the Briggs men not to shoot them as they come up. 

“Mighty suspicious of everyone being a Drachman spy,” she says with an eye roll. The woman must be in her 60s, bundled into a thick coat of animal fur and leather, her face creased and rough from the harsh winds blowing on the mountain trails. 

“Well, are you?” Aang asks, ever curious. His coat isn’t as warm as everyone else’s as he refuses to wear anything made with animal products. Still, he wears layers and stays warm enough. 

The woman winks in response, laughs, and drives off. 

“That wasn’t weird or anything,” Sokka says beside Aang. 

“We have to walk the rest of the way,” Zuko tells them, turning to the trail. The wind has picked up and the snow hasn’t stopped falling. The initial wonder of it wore off several hours ago, when Azula shoved a handful of snow down the back of Zuko’s neck. 

“I call Azula!” Toph shouts, already scrambling up Azula’s armor to perch on her shoulders. Toph’s nap did her some good, it seems. 

“Ugh,” Azula moans, though Zuko knows she doesn’t mind and appreciates having a friend close. “Fine. It’s your problem if you freeze up there.”

“This coat was made for royalty, so I’ll be just fine,” Toph tells Azula, rapping her gloved knuckles against Azula’s helmet. 

“I’m gonna scout ahead a bit,” June says, flashing those red eyes. “Keep an eye on the brat, would you ladies?” she asks Azula and Katara. “Heaven knows why our warrior lady is so picky, but she trusts you two more than the men.” 

“Hey!” Aang, Sokka, and Zuko all shout in unison. Katara chuckles with Toph and Azula. 

“I don’t blame her,” June responds. Then she launches herself into the nearest pine tree with super strength and reflexes, hopping from one tree to the next until she disappears completely within the falling swirls of snow. 

“And so we walk?” Aang asks, huddling close to Katara. 

“And so we walk,” Zuko agrees, doing the same by Sokka. 

They’re at it for at least an hour, trudging through knee high snow. No one has said much of anything but Zuko can’t feel his nonmetal limbs by the time they see a figure coming toward them from up the path. Zuko stops, tugging on Sokka’s arm. Sokka reaches for Katara, who has Aang glued to her side for warmth. Azula stops behind them.

“Toph, can you see who that is from up there?” Zuko asks her, craning his head up so he can see the young girl on his sister’s shoulders. He’s assuming Toph is squinting through the flurries of snow as they all wait in silence, the figure getting closer.

Then splitting into _two_ figures. 

“I think that’s Suki up front,” Toph says. The figure in question solidifies out of the blizzard, green robes and coat whipping around them. “Or June, whoever’s in charge right now.”

“And behind them?” Zuko asks. This figure seems to be bigger, lugging something beside them.

“I dunno,” Toph calls down. “The snow is too much right now.”

Suki comes into view, just then. Her eyes are red and her skin is shiny and grey with the ultimate shield. _June._

“Run, run, _run,”_ June shouts as she gets closer. She climbs up the nearest pine and gets yanked out by whatever the other figure has by their side. Closer, Zuko can make out a young man, a few years older than Zuko himself. He has dark hair and blue eyes, his skin tone a tawny brown like Sokka’s. And he isn’t carrying something beside him. 

That’s his _arm._

“He has automail!” Zuko yells. “Everyone scatter! He’ll have to pick who he grabs with that thing!” The arm is large and the metal starts past the elbow. It’s shaped like the mouth of a crocodile, an open vee lined with razor sharp protrusions, like teeth. The man can launch it on a chain and snag his victims, dragging them to him, like he’s done with June. June snarls and kicks him in the knee, freeing herself from the arm as the stranger howls in pain and grabs for his flesh and blood appendage. 

Katara and Aang are behind the pine June had been trying to climb. Katara has several knives in her hands and she throws them where the man is kneeling on the floor, clutching his leg. With her other knives, she makes a star shape by her feet in the snow, draws a pentacle, and touches it with her hands, imbuing it with power. The young man is consumed by electricity, the power shocking him and sending him into convulsions in the snow. Zuko is always amazed that alkahestry can be used to heal, but also to do long distance work, like this. Zuko can’t do that with alchemy; he’d have to get up close to someone to transmute on their person, or else just fling something transmuted at them. But Katara can transmute the snow near the man from where she’s standing, so far away, and have it damage him. 

“Everyone alright?” Zuko yells. He’d taken Sokka behind a pine with him. Azula had done the same with Toph. 

“We’re fine!” Aang says, coming out with Katara from behind their tree. His eyes are wide and on her, a goofy smile on his face as Katara flicks her hair out of her face and wipes her hands on her coat to clear them of snow. She stows her knives in her bag, walking over with Aang to the unconscious young man to collect the knives she’d thrown at them. Azula joins her, June coming to stand with them too. Sokka nods and takes Zuko’s hand, tugging him along to join their friends. 

“Brother,” Azula says. Zuko fears she’s going to comment on his hand clutched in Sokka’s but instead, Azula points to the man. “He’s wearing a military uniform.”

“What?” Zuko says. Startled, he lets go of Sokka’s hand and runs over the man, kneeling by him in the snow. Azula’s right; the man has the red and black uniform of the military, with silver lapel studs indicating his rank of captain. Sure, Zuko still outranks him, as his state alchemist’s certification gives him rank equal to a major, but still. They’ve just attacked a member of the military. 

“Then why did he attack us?” Aang asks. He looks over to June, eyes squinting. “Did you do something to him, June?”

“Hey!” June snaps. “I thought the Nomads preached tolerance or some shit. No way did I do anything to this freak. I didn’t even see him until he was right on me - this snow is a bummer.”

“Remember what the cart driver said?” Katara says. “The men at Briggs are suspicious of people being Drachman spies. Maybe they have soldiers on patrol looking for them.”

“And this guy just sucks at his job?” Toph asks, still on Azula’s shoulders. “Huh. Good point.”

There’s a moan and the man at their feet twitches. Zuko claps his hands and transmutes his automail plating into a sword, pulling its twin from the scabbard on his back. Sokka pulls a revolver from somewhere under his fluffy coat. June’s shield is up and Katara has a knife, placing herself between the man and Aang. Azula takes a step back, keeping herself and Toph out of it. 

“Who are you?” Zuko snarls as the man sits up. He really is around their age, Zuko confirms. He blinks young eyes up at them, his short hair falling wetly into his face. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything, you Drachman scum!” the man spits out. 

Zuko rolls his eyes. “We’re not Drachman spies.”

“That’s just what a spy would say!”

“He’s not wrong,” Sokka concedes. “But we’re not spies.” He puts his gun back into his coat. “See? Goodwill.” Slowly, Katara lowers her knife, but she keeps it in hand. Zuko lowers his blades, and Azula steps closer again. June keeps her shield up. 

“My name is Zuko Sozin,” Zuko says. “I’m a state alchemist.”

 _“You’re_ a state alchemist?” the young man snorts. “Prove it.” Zuko grumbles, but he manages to pull his pocket watch out and show it to the man. “You seem a bit young. Can I stand or will your guard dog bite me?”

“I’m no one’s guard dog, pretty boy,” June growls. Azula flicks her in the back of the head. “Hey!”

“Just switch places with Suki for now, before you get us all killed,” Azula orders. June glares but does so, as a moment later, blue eyes blink back at them and the ultimate shield recedes. 

“Hello!” Suki says to the soldier. The man is staring at her in confusion. “Don’t mind us. You were saying who you were?”

“I wasn’t,” he shoots back. “You said Sozin though… like the Fuhrer?” he says to Zuko now. 

Zuko tries not to flinch. “He’s our father.” Zuko jerks a thumb at Azula, standing beside him. “That’s my sister, Azula. We came up north on orders from General Iroh of Eastern Command to deliver a missive to General Pakku of the Briggs Fort concerning their spring training exercises. So I ask _again_ , captain, what is your name and why did you attack us?”

The man grimaces at his rank, clearly understanding that Zuko is asking him as an order from a superior now. “My name is Captain Hahn of the Briggs Fort. I attacked because your… _friend_ was hopping in trees near our fort. That’s not normal behavior we expect from the locals… _sir_.”

Zuko grimaces, even as Sokka and Toph erupt into giggles at the address. “Don’t… there’s no need to-”

“Take us to see General Pakku,” Azula demands, cutting him off. “Our mission is more important than whatever game you’re playing at out here in the snow with supposed spies. We don’t have time to waste.”

“Last I checked,” Captain Hahn says, glaring at her even though she’s several feet taller, “ _you_ weren’t the state alchemist.”

“She isn’t,” Zuko says, standing between them, “but I am and I echo her request. Please, lead me and my companions to the fort. We want to be out of your hair as much as you want us gone. But I’m on orders to deliver something to your general and I can’t leave without doing so.”

Captain Hahn stares at Zuko, his eyes lingering on Zuko’s scar for longer than Zuko would like, and then he gets up from the snow, straightening out his metal arm. Though it’s large, he doesn’t struggle under its weight. It must also be a carbon alloy, to avoid freezing in the temperatures of the north. 

“Fine,” the captain says, turning his back to them. “We’re a ten minute hike to the Briggs Fort. This way.”

“Thank you,” Zuko says, nodding to everyone to get ready to follow. “Suki, you think you can stay front and center while we’re at Briggs?”

“I can sure as hell try,” she responds wryly, watching the captain lead the way with evident distaste. She sighs and pats Azula’s arm. “You good holding Toph a little longer?”

“She weighs the same as a grape,” Azula snorts. Toph knocks her on the top of the helmet in retaliation.

“You’re lucky it’s snowy! Cos if this was normal ground, I would _so_ be kicking your ass for that right about now.”

“I know,” Azula responds, with no doubt in her voice. She sets off behind the captain, Suki following her. Katara nods to Sokka, allowing Aang to take her hand as they fall into line. 

“Ready to see the Briggs Fort?” Zuko asks Sokka, taking up their company’s rear. Just in case. Maybe they’d run into a bear or one of those Drachman spies the Briggs men seemed so worried about. 

“I’m ready to see that captain’s automail arm,” Sokka says instead, eyes focused ahead on the captain’s back. “Did you see that Zuko? So big and powerful, but the alloy was balanced perfectly and allowed him to swing it with ease!” He turns starstruck eyes on Zuko. “Do you want one of those?”

“Absolutely not,” Zuko chuckles, even in the face of Sokka’s pout. “I’m sure you could design something that looks less tacky than his crocodile arm, but I think we can both agree that it’s the swords for me.” He slides the actual sword back into its scabbard at his back, claps his hands, and transmutes his automail sword back into the plating for his arm. 

“You’re no fun. You gotta let me do something cool for your armor!” He points to Zuko’s leg. “Do you want a knee cannon? I can make you a knee cannon!”

“I’ll think about it,” Zuko concedes, knowing full well he will _not_ be agreeing to a knee cannon. He has his alchemy - what the fuck does he need a _knee canon_ for? “Let’s go.”

* * *

The Briggs Fort is aptly named a wall. 

The metal is hundreds of feet high, hundreds of feet thick, and blocks off a natural mountain pass that would have connected the two countries of Amestris and Drachma. It’s a big, steel grey _monster_ , suddenly appearing from the snow gloom, like a living thing hunched in weight. Zuko cranes his head back and back and back until he can _maybe_ see the top of the wall. The soldiers atop it look like specks. Zuko figures that, to anyone looking down from up there, he’d look the same. 

“Welcome to Briggs,” Captain Hahn says with obvious pride in his voice. “Betcha never seen anything like it.”

“Whoa, this thing is taller than you, Azula!” Toph says. “Jealous?”

“Not even a little,” Azula intones. 

“General Pakku keeps this place running on a tight schedule,” Captain Hahn says, leading them forward. There are soldiers with carts of supplies walking through the fort’s open gate that salute to the captain and gawk at them all as they walk into the fort. It’s warmer, but not by much. Azula puts Toph down, who sighs in content at being on the ground. Zuko spies a few of the soldiers with mugs of something steaming, a few with hot buns in hand. His stomach gurgles and he hears Sokka’s do the same next to him. They have food in their bags, but it's all travel ready and bland, nothing like those buns. It would be nice to have something hot in their bellies before leaving the fort. 

“Is there a canteen we can stop by after we speak with the general?” Zuko asks. 

“Sure,” the captain responds. He throws a conniving smile at Zuko over his shoulder. “But it’ll cost you.” He tells them how much a simple cup of coffee would cost and they all blanche in horror. Of course, Zuko thinks. Everything is about money. 

The fort is a maze on the inside. Zuko can’t keep track of how many staircases they go up and down, the hallways they take, the elevators they ride. He wonders if Captain Hahn is trying to confuse them on purpose, in case they _are_ spies at the end of the day. But then he takes them down one more flight of stairs and they’re in a quiet hall, outside an office. 

“I’ll announce you first,” Captain Hahn says, glaring especially hard at Zuko. “Only _after_ the General gives you leave to speak should you address him.” Zuko can feel Azula rolling her eyes, feel Katara bristle, but he nods. Hahn nods back and lets them into the office. 

General Pakku is in a black military uniform, the stars of a general on his lapel. His hair is long like Zuko’s and very grey with a receding hairline, but he doesn’t keep it braided or pulled back. It matches his grey moustache and soul patch. When they enter, he’s doing paperwork with a serious frown on his face. Zuko’s stomach sinks. This man has the opposite disposition to his uncle. 

“General Pakku, sir!” Captain Hahn saultes. “You have a messenger from Eastern Command with a missive from General Iroh Sozin concerning spring training exercises. This is state alchemist Zuko Sozin, and his team.” Hahn steps to the side, revealing Zuko and the others, wet with snow and a bit bedraggled. Zuko’s braid feels like an anchor tied to his head, heavy with water from the snow. What a sight they must all be. 

General Pakku looks up. He snorts. Zuko feels everyone tense around him. 

“Very well. What _missive_ have you brought me about _training exercises_ , Fullmetal Alchemist?” Pakku says. He sits back, grinning, but something glints in his eyes. 

Zuko exhales through his nose and walks forward, fishing out the envelope from his coat. It’s a bit damp, but still stiff enough that you can’t tell at first glance what’s inside of it. Zuko places it on General Pakku’s desk and steps back. Pakku stares at it, brow beetled in consternation as he picks it up and rips it open. He peeks inside and his eyes widen at the sight of the pai sho tile. But he doesn’t remove it. Instead, he looks up at Zuko and his friends, eyes assessing each of them. He slits his eyes. 

“Captain Hahn, please escort these lovely civilians to the mess hall for a warm meal - on me,” Pakku says. Zuko frowns. A meal on the general, when Hahn had been going on about priciness? This can’t be good. “Fullmetal Alchemist, I’d like a word with you. Alone.”

“I’m staying,” Azula states, voice adamant. 

“You are neither military nor state alchemist. I have nothing to say to you, young lady,” Pakku sneers. 

“I’m not listening to anything that my sister isn’t privy to,” Zuko replies, crossing his arms. 

“And if I order you?” Pakku asks dryly. 

“That won’t make much of a difference,” Zuko admits. 

“Zuko,” Sokka murmurs beside him. But Zuko won’t budge. Pakku suspects something isn’t right, that much Zuko can tell. And the man is right, but there’s only so much they can say. “Maybe it’s easier to just-”

“Fine,” Pakku snaps. “Sozins, stay. The rest of you, with Captain Hahn. _Please_.” 

Hahn is quick to usher them out. Aang tries to stay positive about getting food, something Sokka easily joins in on with Toph. Katara and Suki stay for a moment longer, staring at Zuko and Azula with concern. But Hahn calls for them and won’t move on without them, so they close the door and leave. 

Pakku tips the envelope upside down and lets the pai sho tile hit the desk. 

“Do either of you know what this is?” Pakku asks. 

“It’s a pai sho tile,” Zuko states. “With the white lotus on it.”

“Do you know why your uncle has sent this?”

“I assume he’s setting something into motion,” Azula says. “Something he’s been working on for a while. Our old teachers in Dublith had a similar message for Uncle.”

“Ah, so Jeong Jeong and Piandao have confirmed as well,” Pakku murmurs. Confirmed, Zuko thinks. Confirmed what? “Correct me if I’m wrong, but something isn’t right with your team.”

“Correct,” Zuko says. 

“Will you tell me?” Pakku asks. His eyes flick up to them from the pai sho tile. 

“I can’t,” Zuko says. _Not here, anyway,_ he thinks, _in an office that anyone could be listening into._

“Can’t,” Pakku repeats. He steeples his fingers in front of him. “That’s a large group of people in your team. I assume that whatever has happened, some of them are being threatened.” Zuko tries not to gasp. Pakku may be crotchety but he is astute. “Interesting. There was something off about the boy with the rifle and that girl with the white face makeup. I assume they are targets.” Zuko nods. “Is there any way to help them?” Zuko shakes his head. “Pity.”

“Well, you have Uncle’s message. Can we leave?” Azula snaps. 

“No,” Pakku snaps right back. “I wasn’t speaking with you.” Zuko huffs. “I need your assistance,” he says to Zuko. 

“Stop being rude to my sister and I’ll consider it,” Zuko snaps back. 

“I am your superior officer-” Pakku starts. 

“But you’re not my _commanding_ officer,” Zuko cuts him off. “And I have further orders from him that I need to follow, thank you very much.” Not really, but Uncle had given them leave to go after the notebook once this was done, and to meet him back up in Central. Zuko isn’t just going to sit here and listen to Pakku be rude to this extent, not to Zuko’s own sister who doesn’t deserve that. 

Pakku seethes for a moment, and Zuko is _so_ ready to start a fight with him, but suddenly, the alarm horns go off in his office. They’re loud and awful, deafening Zuko to any swears Pakku may hurl his way. But when he looks, Pakku is on his feet, eyes wide, running out the office door without a second thought to the Sozin Siblings. Zuko shares a look with Azula, having a silent argument about whether they should follow or not, and then she groans and finally nods in agreement.

Zuko isn’t sure where to run to as they’ve already lost sight of Pakku, but he figures following the running soldiers will get them where they need to go. He briefly thinks of finding their friends and just _leaving_ but it doesn’t sit well with him to do that. He’d rather follow these soldiers, see if they can help, and _then_ leave, maybe with General Pakku indebted to them. That would be nice. 

Zuko and Azula follow the masses down to the underground floor of the fort, where all their machines for heating, electricity, and plumbing converge. He and Azula come into the large, open space, reminding him very much of Father’s cistern, at the top of a staircase. And below them, on the main floor between large water pipes and a switchboard for their telephone lines and radio, is a _giant_ of a man. He’s at least seven feet tall, built like a fighter and just as hulking, with no shirt on. He climbs out of a hole in the floor, beyond which is only darkness and rubble that Zuko can see from up here. 

On the dead center of the man’s forehead is an ouroboros tattoo. 

“Azula,” Zuko says, nodding to him. Azula looks. She growls. 

“He’s one of them, one of the homunculi!” 

“Yeah, probably. Who was missing from the line up last time?” Zuko muses. Lust is dead. Their father is Wrath. That General Zhao is Pride, haunting Sokka still. Greed is in Suki, going by June. The last they saw of Envy, it was in a glass jar inside of Gluttony. That just left… 

“Sloth,” Azula says as Zuko comes to the same conclusion. “The only one left is Sloth.”

“That big thing is supposed to be slo-” Zuko chokes on his words as Sloth slowly turns and launches himself in the blink of an eye at the switchboard. It crumples beneath him like tissue and he roars. Briggs soldiers are streaming in, the sirens still blaring at the intrusion. Zuko spies General Pakku on the ground floor already. They make eye contact and Pakku looks murderous and gestures for Zuko and Azula to _get the fuck down there right now_.

“It seems we’re being summoned,” Azula muses. Zuko nods and makes his way down the metal stairs, Azula following. “Where do you think the others are?”

“I have a bad feeling that a complimentary meal in the canteen means a holding cell,” Zuko admits, pushing past soldiers. He makes it to Pakku, who’s yelling for someone to get a tank. Why the fuck does Briggs have a _tank?_ “Sir!”

“What _is_ that thing?” Pakku yells. The homunculus has turned and is staring very intently at the water pipes. Before Zuko can say anything, a beam of red, sparkling energy comes from the homunculus’ forehead tattoo, exploding the metal and dousing everyone in water. “Cut the water main!” Pakku yells and someone rushes to do so. Pakku spins and grabs Zuko by the front of his red coat. Zuko yelps. “What the _fuck_ is that, Fullmetal? I want answers, now!’

“I can’t!” Zuko yells back, struggling against Pakku’s grip. Azula seethes behind him but knows things would be worse if she touched a general. “Not here, not now. There are people I _love_ at stake!”

Pakku glares but then shoves Zuko away. “We _will_ have words, Fullmetal,” he says. Then he cracks his neck and says, “What can hurt this thing?”

“Nothing,” Zuko admits, even as men start shooting at it. Sloth merely gazes owlishly at the bullet holes and watches them heal with red sparks. Pakku grits his teeth. 

“So we can’t kill it,” Pakku muses. “But we can slow it down. Fullmetal! I want you and your sister to distract this thing. Get it to that loading door in the back of the room. Is that understood?” He points the place out. It’s on the other side of the machine room, one of those metal doors that slide up to connect the outside of the fort to this room, probably to load in cargo and supplies, or any large machinery for repairs. Zuko feels like it’s a long way away, but he nods. He’s heard Pakku is a dick, but the man had been promoted to Major General for a reason. 

“Come on, Azula,” Zuko says. He claps his hands and transmutes his plating into a sword, grabbing the other on his back. He has no idea what the hell swords are going to do to a being who can’t die and can shoot energy from it’s forehead, but here they are. “Hey!” he yells. “Sloth, right?” He runs towards the homunculus, Azula on his heels.

Sloth turns, so slowly, looks at them, and throws the closest piece of machinery. Zuko goes low and ducks under the flying hunk of metal, while Azula spins and lets it glances off one of her shoulder braces. Fuck, but Zuko is going to have to fix that later. Zuko sweeps in and slices at Sloth’s thick legs, blood spurting but the skin healing just as face. Sloth swipes at him, but Zuko ducks and aims to slice at the tattoo. 

Sloth launches him right across the space, close to where Pakku wanted to get Sloth anyhow. Zuko had hit one of the adjacent walls and slid down, and now lies on the ground, aching and sore. His head is spinning, but when he manages to stand, nothing is broken. He may have bruised a rib though, but it’s nothing Katara can’t fix with a little alkahestry. Zuko looks and Sloth is hunching down, ignoring Azula wailing on him from behind. Oh shit, Zuko realizes, Sloth is going to charge him. 

Zuko runs the short distance to the sliding door and the moment Sloth becomes a blur, he launches himself to the side and away from the door. Seconds later, Sloth smashes the door into pieces, exposing them all the blizzard outside the fort. Zuko tries to shield himself from the sudden gust of wind, but it still hits him hard and takes his breath away. A moment later, Sloth is standing over him, the tattoo on his forehead glowing red. Zuko tries to crawl away. 

But he doesn’t have to. There’s a loud bang and suddenly, Sloth is propelled out into the elements. Zuko looks to his left, back into the machine room, and finds General Pakku standing on one of the tanks, the gun side of the machine smoking. 

“Hit it again!” Pakku yells, and a large bullet goes flying out of the tank and right into Sloth where the homunculus had been struggling to stand in the snow. It blasts him further into the snow, right into one of the military carts, thankfully already unloaded. “Now pour!” Pakku yells.

Zuko frowns. 

“Pour?” he says, but no one hears him. Instead, outside in the snow, Sloth is suddenly drenched in some foul smelling liquid. _Gasoline_ , Zuko realizes. What, are they going to set Sloth on fire? That might work, given that he killed Lust that way. Whoever had been stationed on one of the forts balconies continues to pour gasoline on Sloth. But no one sets the thing alight. They allow Sloth to walk closer to the opening in the fort. That’s when Zuko realizes how slow Sloth is. Sure, the homunculus was already slow unless gearing up for a charged attack, but this is something else. Sloth seems to be fighting himself. All along the homunculus’ body, ice crystals begin to form. Sloth stops moving, their skin turning blue, then grey. Another moment passes and Sloth falls over, effectively a block of ice, stopped for now. 

Well, General Pakku sure had slowed Sloth down. 

The soldiers have already started clean up duty by the time Zuko staggers back over to General Pakku. Azula is standing over the man, hollering at him and using some choice words to describe what he just made Zuko go through. But it doesn’t matter - what matters is that they’re all alive and it looks like Sloth is stopped - for now. 

“Azula, enough,” Zuko says, feeling exhaustion seeping into his bones. “General, what the hell was in that gasoline?”

“It’s a special kind, made for the cold weather. It evaporated and sapped the heat from our nasty friend, effectively freezing it in place,” Pakku responds. He looks like he wants to say something else to Azula but bites back his words. “Sozins, with me.” Pakku marches over to the hole that Sloth came up from. Zuko and Azula follow, curious. “You called it Sloth. You knew it?”

“Not really,” Zuko admits, looking down into the hole. It’s completely dark down there. 

“Come. You won’t speak to me up here. Maybe you will down below.” And then, he shoves Zuko down the hole. 

Zuko lands with a thud, rolling to the side just in time for Azula to hop down after him, calling his name. He stands, biting back pain and anger at this callous general that his uncle has deemed so important to speak with. Pakku comes down after them. 

“One of you make a flame,” Pakku orders, dusting himself off. “My specialty is liquid alchemy - water, mercury, that sort of thing. I have no patience for plasmas like flame.”

“You’re an alchemist?” Zuko asks, even as he claps his hands and snaps a flame to life. Pakku is frowning at them as Azula does the same. 

“The Fluid Alchemist, yes,” Pakku says. “How did you two do alchemy with a transmutation circle?” Fuck, Pakku is quick. 

“We committed the taboo,” Zuko admits. “Opened the doorway to… the Truth, whatever that is.”

“Interesting,” Pakku muses. He turns down one side of the hole and Zuko follows with the light. 

It’s a tunnel. One with tracks for a wagon or train already laid. 

“What the hell is going on?” Pakku seethes. The tunnel disappears into darkness. “That thing dug a complete tunnel from here, going off in both directions.” He turns on Zuko. “What do you know of this?”

“Nothing!” Zuko says, and that’s the truth, for once. Why would Father have a giant tunnel starting and ending in the north? Unless…

“Azula, do you still have a map of Amestris on you?” Zuko asks his sister. “Actually, wait a minute. Let’s get away from the hole we came in from. General Pakku?” The general slits his eyes but nods. Deeper they go into the tunnel, observing its rough hewn walls, made by Sloth’s grabbing hands, wide as shovels. 

Fifteen minutes later, General Pakku stops, judging they’ve gone far enough from prying eyes. 

“Well? What’s this about? Speak freely. It’s just me, none of my men. What is going on?”

Zuko nods to Azula, taking a chance. Maybe Pakku can be trusted, especially if Uncle Iroh trusts him already. Pride is busy watching Sokka, Sloth is frozen outside. They can do this, here and now. But it has to be quick, in case anything else goes wrong. Azula hands him the map and brightens her flame so Zuko can put his out and take the map. He unfurls it. Sure enough, the northern wall of Fort Briggs is at the top of the country’s circle. 

“General Pakku, has there been any skirmishes between Amestris and Drachma within the last few days?” Zuko asks. Pakku’s frown deepens, which seems impossible, but Zuko watches it happen right in front of his eyes. 

“Just yesterday. They attacked, unprovoked. We took them out, easily, with the new tanks you saw above us. How did you know?” Pakku accuses. 

“A guess,” Zuko admits. He points to the map. “Pencil?” he asks Azula. She finds one inside her armor and hands it to him. Zuko scribbles four dots, one on each of the four major command centers at the four cardinal directions of the country. Then, he connects them all in a circle that encloses Amestris almost perfectly. How had none of them thought a circular country was odd? “There has been a major bloodbath in each of the four command centers over the past few centuries - except Briggs. Out west was the initial battle for land with Aerugo. Down south was with Creta just a hundred years ago. And most recent until now, the Nomadic War of Extermination in the east.” Zuko taps the north. “Your men just spilled blood at the top of this circle.”

“What is the circle for, Fullmetal?” Pakku asks. “I’m getting tired of your games. Speak plainly.”

So, Zuko does. He tells Pakku about the transmutation circle the country has become, has always been, really. How these battles that spilled blood so violently were blood seals in each of the four cardinal directions, and that this last skirmish in the north has completely the circle. He wonders, briefly, if this is what Father had been waiting for, but dismisses the thought. Something else must be coming, something else that would ensure the most alchemical power. 

“You’re telling me that _thing_ is a homunculus and that our government that we have so valiantly been serving is full of cowards who sold out to some abomination in the belly of Central?” Pakku sums up, voice steady and icy. He’s staring at the map. The five labs are still circled and connected into a pentagram. Now, the circle of the four command posts has joined it. Central is in the middle of it all. “I don’t know if your uncle’s plan is going to be enough to save us, then.”

“What is his plan?” Zuko asks. “It won’t go beyond Azula and I, not unless we need to get messages to others to help.”

“You want to help?” Pakku scoffs. “We’ll see.” Pakku sighs. “We are supposed to meet in the spring for northern and eastern command’s usual joint training practice. We were going to use this event to stage a coup. We have those who have decided to supply us with weapons. We have allies in the south and the west who need to be informed that we are moving come the spring. We just need a date to attack. You’re saying these homunculi are waiting for a specific time to set this transmutation circle in motion. If we find out that time, that’s when we’ll attack. Iroh’s message said he was investigating the time to attack.”

“You got all of that from a pai sho tile?” Azula snorts. Pakku sighs and takes out the tile. He presses the center of it, and a tiny piece pops up with a slip of paper rolled tightly to fit inside. “Oh,” she murmurs. “Clever.”

“Yes, your uncle is,” Pakku admits with a wry smile. “To protect members of the group planning to stage a coup, we have set up a system to let each other know when to prepare. Iroh is to tell me. I am to pass the message on, so that not everything can be traced back to Iroh.”

“Jeong Jeong and Piandao are for the south, then,” Azula surmises. “I assume their message to Uncle has confirmed their involvement on the day.”

“Indeed. They’re our firepower providers,” Pakku says. 

“Uncle is the east and you’re the north. So… who’s in the west? Is that who you’re contacting?” Zulo asks. Pakku nods. 

“It’s my duty to tell General Bumi to prepare and wait for the confirmation of our attack day,” Pakku says. 

“General _Bumi?”_ Zuko splutters. The man has a few screws loose, to say the least and then some. 

“Yes,” Pakku says, the tone of his voice agreeing with Zuko’s shock. “Off color, but reliable and in possession of the largest military force of the four main command posts - besides Central Command of course.”

“You want us to pass along the message, don’t you?” Zuko guesses with a sigh. 

“Yes. In light of this new information, I’ll be getting in touch with Iroh through separate channels. I understand you said he is probably under surveillance by the Fuhrer… who is also a homunculus.” Pakku sighs harshly out his nose. “It seems I’ll have to get creative. Perhaps it’s time I used my talents for disguise…” He hmms and Zuko honestly doesn’t want to know what the general has in mind. “Can you get this message to General Bumi?” Pakku says, handing the pai sho tile back to Zuko. 

Zuko wants to say no. He wants to say that they have their own business to attend to, that they want to get their bodies back and have no time for civil wars or coup d'etats. 

And yet. 

How can Zuko, an alchemist with the power to help others, turn away?

“Yes,” Zuko says, even as Azula hisses in response. He ignores her. “Can you get us out of here without Pride seeing us?”

“That would be the shadow homunculus spying on the sniper, correct?” Pakku says. “He can only manifest his shadows where there is light to do so… hmm.” Pakku’s eyes brighten in the low light of the fire, “The nights up north are pitch black. Tonight is a new moon, no moonlight to guide the way. I can send you off on a safe trail toward your destination come midnight. We can provide you with provisions, equipment, and a cart. Would that work?”

Zuko is a bit floored - that would _more_ than work. But he nods and bows in thanks. 

“That’s perfect, thank you. What are you going to do with Sloth?” Zuko asks. 

“Hmmm, I think we’re going to tie that thing up, mix some cement, deposit it back down here, and then seal it in. Somehow, Sloth got into this tunnel. I’m sure it can find it’s own way out.” Pakku falls silent, touching one rocky wall. “A tunnel, creating the circle for the array. The completed circle means that at any moment, they can use our country to power whatever nefarious deeds they have planned.” He sighs. “What a world.”

“What a life,” Zuko counters. “Let’s get out of here. And get our friends _out_ of those cells.”

Pakku has that impish grin back on his face. “Put that together did you?”

“After Captain Hahn told us a cup of coffee was going to cost us? Yeah, you offering to feed my team for free sounded a bit too suspicious,” Zuko says with a sigh. 

“Then lets release them, shall we?” Pakku says. 

They make their way back down the tunnel until they reach the hole. Pakku calls up and one of his men drops down a rope ladder for them. Before they can start climbing, Azula stumbles, clutching her helmet. Zuko turns to her. 

“Azula?”

“No, no, no,” she mutters. “Please, no. Not now. Now _now_. Brother,” she starts, but then the fire of her eyes disappears and the armor her soul inhabited clatters to the ground, empty. 

“Azula!” Zuko yells, running to her. He rolls her onto her back. Pakku comes over as well, kneeling beside her. 

“What’s going on? What is this?” he asks, suspicious. 

“I don’t - I don’t _know_ ,” Zuko admits. “Her soul leaves her armor sometimes. This hasn’t even happened before now. It’s the third time already. I dont… I don’t know how long it’s going to last.” But he knows it lasted longer in Resembool than it did in the warehouse district the first time. It lasted longer under Dublith than it did in Resembool. Zuko is terrified. There has to be something in that notebook to help them. Or else, he’s afraid he’s going to lose his sister. 

They sit beside her for a full half hour before Azula gasps back to life, her eyes blazing in the sockets of her helmet. 

“Azula?” Zuko asks, helping her sit up. “Were you back?” he asks. 

“Yes,” she says, breathless. “My body…” She trails off. “Zuko, I think my soul is rejecting the armor. I’ve been in here too long.”

“We’ll get you to your body,” Zuko swears. “We will.”

“I don’t want to get lost there,” Azula says as her voice shakes. Zuko has nothing to say to that, and neither, it seems, does Pakku. “Don’t tell the others this is happening,” Azula asks them both. “It’s just something else they’ll worry about. We can handle it.” Zuko nods, though he wants to tell Sokka so badly. Pakku sighs, like he doesn’t even want to get involved in the first place, so he’s glad to keep his mouth shut. 

When they get topside again, Zuko sees that repairs to the water main are already underway and that the switchboard has been replaced. The tank is back in its storage space and the hole the door that Sloth had smashed through has been patched up, temporarily, with a huge sheet of metal. 

“This way,” Pakku says, directing them up the metal staircase they had entered the machine room from. Then it’s through a myriad of halls and stairs and one elevator before they get to a hallway with guards. Maybe Briggs really _is_ just that complicated. Maybe everyone here just likes fucking with outsiders. At this point, Zuko thinks it may be a mix of both. 

“Sir!” the guards call, saluting. 

“At ease, gentleman,” Pakku says. “Let us through.” 

The doors lead to a short hall, lined with cells. In the last two, their friends sit, waiting. Katara and Aang are in one cell, Toph and Suki in another. Katara is laying on the cot provided while Aang sits on the floor, legs folded under him, meditating. In the other room, Toph has managed to pry up some of the flooring, while Suki is practicing some deadly looking moves with her hands turned into their fan forms. 

“I’m not paying for that,” Zuko says upon seeing Pakku’s look of extreme annoyance at Toph’s destruction of government property. “You’re the ones who took away her alchemy braces.”

“Yeah, fuck you!” Toph yells. “Sparky! Azula! You’re back!”

“Azula!” Suki says, running up to the bars. She flips her fans back into hands with a flick of her wrists. 

“Hey, Zuko!” Aang says, exhaling a final time and standing up. Katara stands beside him. Zuko frowns. 

“Where’s Sokka?” he asks, gut twisting in anxiety. 

“Our automail engineer heard there was another professional around and snagged him,” one of the guards says, flinching from Pakku’s glare. “He’d be with Arnook, sir!”

“Let out the Fullmetal Alchemist’s team, please. Equip them with standard mountain team supplies and get them _actual_ meals this time,” the general says. 

“Katara, can you patch me up later?” Zuko asks. “I’m going to find Sokka.”

“Of course,” Katara says, walking over to him once the cell doors have been opened. Suki goes to Azula and immediately chats her up, though Azula is careful not to say anything about the discussion in the tunnels. Toph gets her to spill all the details about the battle with Sloth. “What happened?”

“You fought another one, didn’t you?” Aang guesses, coming up beside them. Zuko nods. Aang sighs. 

“I hope what we’re looking for can help,” Aang says, staying discreet, just in case. “Both for your bodies and for… all of this,” Aang clarifies, gesturing around them. He smiles, always kind and supportive. “We’ll be right here, every step of the way, Zuko,” Aang assures him, a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes and Zuko nods, feeling better having everyone around him again. 

“This way,” the first guard says. “I can take you all for food.”

“I’ll put in the order for supplies, sir!” the second guard says to Pakku, eager to get away. He dashes off, the others following the first guard out.

“I’ll take you to the engineers,” General Pakku sighs. “Come.”

The engineering floor isn’t too far from them. Zuko smells it before he sees it, mechanical grease and oil heavy in the air. They come up on the room, simply adorned with a sign that says _Engineering_ on the front of the door, and Pakku knocks twice before letting himself in. 

The place is pristine, schematics hug up neatly on the walls, shelves of tools and equipment lining the room, tables with half-made automail lying on top of them scattered around. Towards the back, Zuko can see Sokka and an older man, probably Hakoda’s age, chatting amiably, gesturing to some schematic or the other. Pakku clears his throat to get their attention. 

“Zuko!” Sokka calls, a smile stretching across his face. He’s just in a long sleeved shirt now, his heavy coat discarded on another table. He rushes over and throws his arms around Zuko’s shoulders, grinning. “We heard the sirens and knew you’d be in the middle of things. You okay?”

“A little roughed up, but I’ll be okay once your sister takes a look at me,” Zuko admits. Sokka’s arms are still around his neck, his own hands on Sokka’s hips, just resting as they talk. “Seems like you were having all the fun while everyone else got stuck in a cell.”

“I got lucky!” Sokka admits, slinging an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and turning them to face the Brigg’s engineer. “That’s Arnook - he knows my dad and Bato! Isn’t that crazy? He recognized our surname when one of the guards was talking about us after we were celled and he came to look! He’s the one who made Captain Hahn’s arm!”

“You have a talented engineer, Fullmetal Alchemist,” Arnook says, wiping the grease from his hands on a stained rag. He’s a bit taller than Sokka, with deep, brown skin and kind brown eyes, his hair just as long and shaggy as Hakoda’s and Bato’s. Zuko wonders if the hair is an engineer thing and tries to imagine Sokka’s hair curly and down. His cheeks heat up at the mental image and he decides it’s a good look on Sokka if the young man ever decides to go that route. 

“I’m _awesome_ ,” Sokka says. “But! Arnook was teaching me some secrets of the trade for ice proofing your automail. Do we have time for me to give you a tune up?” This question is aimed towards General Pakku. The general nods. 

“Arnook, take them down to the canteen for dinner once they’re done,” Pakku orders. Arnook nods and watches as Pakku leaves. 

“I know he can be a stick in the mud,” Arnook says once the door closes, “but he’s good to his men.” He shakes his head and smiles. “You can use this table for the tune up. It’s already set up and Hahn tells me it’s the most comfortable to lay on.”

Once Zuko leans back on the chair and Sokka gets his tools, Arnook leaves them in peace. 

“I know you probably can’t tell me what happened earlier or why Pakku’s let us all out, but… I’m glad you’re okay,” Sokka says. “I really am.”

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” Zuko says. Then he grins. “Now, fix my arm.”

“Yes, sir, Fullmetal Alchemist, sir!” Sokka mocks, spinning a wrench around one finger. 

“Shut up.”

* * *

They set out that night, under the cover of darkness. They really can’t see anything, but General Pakku sets them off on the right course. Everyone has white coats on to protect them from the cold and blend with the snow in the day time, courtesy of Briggs. Their cart, dilled with nonperishable foods and other supplies, has a very basic motor and steering system, one that runs on a crank. _Someone_ is going to have to get out and turn it every half hour or so. But they’ll cover more ground that way.

They’re all loaded up. Zuko turns to Pakku, who has given them directions based on how long they’ve been on the road and trees they’ll be able to see just by their eyes adjusting to the dark and proximity. To boot, June claims she can see in the dark, so Pakku gives her landmarks to use to get back to North City. 

“Thanks,” Zuko says. 

“You’ll do as I asked?” Pakku replies. Zuko nods. They’ll get to West City, one way or another. “Then there is no need to thank me. If anything changes between now and when you arrive at your destination, there will be news for you waiting there.”

“Alright,” Zuko says. He lets out a breath, cranks the cart’s motor and hops in front, next to Sokka who has been chosen to be their first driver. There’s a steering wheel at the front of the cart and the brake/gas pedals don’t let them go faster than 20 miles per hour, but it’s more than they had when they got to the fort. “And we’re off.”

“I know General Pakku said if we go straight from here we’ll be fine, but what if we hit a tree? Or a bear?” Sokka worries, hands gripping the steering wheel tight. 

“Nah, it’s clear all the way down this way,” June says, popping her head between them from the back. Both young men yelp and she laughs, red eyes glinting in the dark. “I’ll keep a lookout, but we’re golden, boys.”

“So…” Zuko says. “Azula says she filled everyone in.” Sokka snorts. “Well… mostly everyone.”

“It’s fine,” Sokka replies, focusing on the task at hand. He’s not shivering this time. The Briggs coats are a lot warmer than their earlier ones, made with some kind of synthetic material that insulates their body heat and keeps out the frigid mountain air. 

“Well, we could tell you now,” Zuko suggests. “There’s no light out tonight, no risk of shadows.”

“That’s still risky,” Azula says from the back of the cart, sitting squished close to Katara and Toph. “Are we going to risk Uncle’s whole plan because you want to share with your boyfriend so much?”

Zuko’s first instinct is to say, _he’s not my boyfriend_ , but Zuko _wants_ Sokka to be, so he doesn’t say that. Instead he sighs and puts it to vote. 

“Okay, all in favor of telling Sokka now, say aye.” Zuko clears his throat. “Aye.”

“Aye!” Aang says. 

And then that’s it. No one else agrees. 

“Aw c’mon, really?” Sokka whines. “Even you, Katara?”

“Look, it’s nothing personal, obviously,” Katara responds. Zuko turns to look at her and at least Katara looks guilty about it. “It’s just… if we can hold off as long as possible, so that it’s impossible to stop at least the role we’re playing in all this, then I say we wait to fill you in on the details.”

“General works,” Azula agrees. “We’re running another errand for Uncle after this,” she continues. 

“That’s all I get?” Sokka mumbles. 

“Hey, Snoozles, at least it’s something,” Toph barks. She pats Sokka hard on the back, reaching forward and groping around until she hits his back. She elbows Zuko in the process but he lets it be. “Kinda glad we’re all together for this though. It would suck wondering where you guys were.”

“It would,” Aang agrees. “I’m grateful to be here too.”

“I’m glad we’re not alone,” Zuko tells them, turned in his seat up front with Sokka. “I appreciate it.” He looks at Azula, trying not to snort. _“We_ appreciate it.” Azula _does_ snort now, but she doesn’t refute him. 

Zuko ends up being the one to get out of the car to crank the motor back to life every time they slow down. Halfway through the night, he swaps roles with Sokka and drives instead. He’s never driven before, so he appreciates the tips Sokka gives him, though the young man from Resembool had only ever _read_ about motorcars before this. It’s the blind leading the blind - almost literally as they can’t see much, even with their eyes accustomed to the dark. Eventually, the sun starts to rise and Zuko can see the smoke rising in the distance. North City. 

“Aang,” he calls, eyes gritty with exhaustion. Zuko leans back and pokes Aang in the arm, the only thing he can reach of Aang’s in the back of the cart. Aang sits bolt upright, startled. “We can see North City. Where to from here?”

Aang rubs his eyes with one fist, yawns and turns around to face the city. He prods a half-asleep Sokka and asks for their map. After a few minutes looking at it, Aang nods to himself and points east, away from North City and the Briggs Mountain Range, and toward a flat tundra of icy snow. 

“That way?” Sokka groans, moaning into his arms. “Ugh. Can we stop in the city, sleep a bit?”

“No time,” Zuko tells him, though he’s just as exhausted from being up all night. “We need to get what we came for and continue our mission.”

“Why don’t we navigate?” Katara says, yawning. Zuko and Sokka yelp in unison - neither of them had noticed that Katara woke up. She laughs and pulls her hair out of her face, tying it with a ribbon she’s pulled from her Briggs coat. “C’mon, Aang. You read the map, I’ll follow your direction.” The cart comes to a stop, running out of steam. “Sokka, Zuko, hop in the back, take a nap. Aang and I have this covered.” She hops out of the cart and starts to crank the engine. Zuko slips into the back, tucking himself against Toph’s side, Sokka tucking himself against Zuko unabashedly. Azula adjusts, Suki sleeping pressed against her chest. June had given up in the night, claiming there really was no danger in the dark, and let Suki take the reins. Suki had chosen to sleep. 

“Is this okay?” Sokka asks as the cart begins to move again. Zuko is squished next to his friends and sister, has a box of military rations wedged by his feet, and a very thin, tarp-like blanket thrown over their bodies. But Sokka is in his arms with his back pressed to Zuko’s chest, so he’ll take it. Besides, this way, they can share their body heat. 

“Yeah,” Zuko admits, snuggling closer. “This is okay.” He falls asleep soon after that, lulled to sleep by the swaying of the cart and the sound of Sokka’s breathing. 

It seems like only minutes later when he’s being shaken awake. Zuko groans but pries open his eyes. His nose is numb, but his limbs are decently warm. Sokka is stirring in his arms, so it hadn’t been him to awaken Zuko. Zuko turns to find Suki smiling at them. 

“We’re here,” she says, giving Zuko a hand up. “How’d you sleep? You two were out for a few hours.”

“Pretty okay,” Zuko admits. He stretches, his spine popping obscenely. 

“Oh my god, that sounded _disgusting_ , Zuko,” Sokka grumbles from under the blanket. “Ugh. Do we have to get up?”

“I’m sure it’s slightly warmer in the shack,” Zuko says, taking the place in. The roof is mostly intact and the walls are up, though he doubts there’s any remaining insulation. “We can start a fire and the wind won’t blow it out. C’mon, get up.”

“Ughhh, carry me, babe?” Sokka whines, not even realizing what he’s said. Suki’s eyes go wide and she smothers a smile, murmuring something to herself - probably to June, actually. Zuko finds it hard to swallow, the cold wind blowing cooling his red-hot cheeks. 

“I can give you a hand up, but I’m not carrying you,” Zuko mumbles, leaning down to offer Sokka a hand. Suki hops off the cart to leave them to it - Zuko assumes everyone else is already in the shack. 

“Was that too much?” Sokka asks, now that Suki is gone. He stands and stretches, looking at Zuko from the corner of his eye. 

“I, uh, I liked it,” Zuko admits, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks away, blowing a lock of hair out of his face. His braid has come undone. Wonderful. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Oh,” Sokka murmurs. He slides a hand into Zuko’s and grasps it, squeezing it tightly. “Do you want to get used to it?”

“No,” Zuko replies, watching Sokka’s face fall. “I hope I _never_ get used to it,” he continues. “I hope every time you call me that, it makes me feel like I have butterflies.”

“Even years down the line?” Sokka teases. The prospect of Sokka wanting to stay with him that long is perfection, though. A dream, even. 

“If we live that long,” Zuko says, bringing them back to reality. 

“Guess we should live, then. Huh?” 

“Yeah.” Zuko sighs. “Let’s go.” They push the cart behind the shack, out of sigh of any prying eyes that may accidentally wander over. Then they make their way inside the shack. 

The floor is hard packed dirt, untouched by the snow. While the place is empty, Azula has a fire going in the center of the single room, and the door is still functioning, so Zuko closes it behind himself and Sokka when they come in. It keeps the heat in, for the most part. 

“There’s dirt!” Toph yelps running up to them with unerring accuracy, the kind she has when her feet are flat on the ground and she can use the vibrations of the earth to navigate. “Sweet, sweet land. And now I can see, whew!” She cackles, stomping her feet into the hard ground. “Man, I hate snow. Can’t _wait_ to get back to regular, not-frozen ground.”

Zuko grins at Toph, happy for her, and then turns to the rest of their squad, huddled around the fire. 

“Did you find it?” he asks. Aang lifts something. It’s a little brown notebook, bound in leather and somehow, still dry. There’s a burlap sack at Aang's feet, so Zuko assumes Aang had stashed it there to keep it safe from the climate. But Aang’s brow is pulled into a vee, his mouth set in a deep frown. Something’s wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s all written in an old Nomadic dialect,” Katara responds, sounding bitter. She rubs her hands vigorously and holds them up to the fire. 

Zuko’s heart clenches. God, no. They’d come all this way. All this way to find a notebook that had a slim chance of helping them get their bodies back. And now they couldn’t even _read_ it? Zuko drops to his knees right there, Sokka squawking in worry and kneeling down with him. Toph carefully places a hand on his shoulder. When Zuko looks up, Azula is in the same position by the fire, Suki’s hand on her arm. 

“I can read it,” Aang announces to them all. Zuko looks to him in shock. 

“What?” he asks. 

“I said, I can read it,” Aang repeats. He sighs, harsh and long. He pulls the hood of his Briggs coat up and over his bald head, hiding his face. “I can read it and I _will_ read it. It’s just…” He rubs his nose on the back of his hand and Katara takes that hand in hers, squeezing it tight. “It’s just that I _told_ you I’d give you the notes, and I can’t just leave you with no way to interpret them. That’s not holding to my word.”

“But it’s an alchemical text,” Sokka says from beside Zuko, voice full of confusion. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Aang admits with a shrug, looking at them. His grey eyes are wide, but determined. “But I promised you. And I don’t break my promises. Besides, I’m not going to actually practice alchemy and I’m not using this knowledge in its pursuit. I’m doing it to help my friends.” He looks to Azula who meets his gaze. “My _family.”_

“That settles it,” Azula says. “Aang will read from it and translate. The rest of us will figure out what we can. I know alchemy. Katara knows alkahestry - there might be some of it in these notes. Toph, Suki, whatever you can glean from these based on your knowledge of both practices can be useful as well.”

“What about me?” Sokka asks. “How can I help?”

“Stay out of it,” Azula tells him, but she isn’t being unkind. “We don’t know if Pride is haunting you and we can’t read in the pitch dark. Go back to sleep, or go outside.”

“And me?” Zuko asks. “You didn’t say my name either.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Azula snorts. “Keep Sokka company. And keep him out of trouble.”

“Hey!” Sokka yelps. “I so _do not_ need a babysitter!”

“Eh,” Katara says with a shrug. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Psh! My own _sister?”_ Sokka laments. “Awesome. You’ve been spending too much time with Suki and Azula. Now you’re mean.”

“She was always mean,” Zuko says, then winces when Katara glares at him. 

“Both of you can go outside then!” she says. “Aang, start reading.”

“Katara, you know they didn’t mean it li-”

“The notebook, Aang,” Katara snaps with a glare. She lets out a deep breath. “Please,” she adds, sounding much calmer. 

Zuko takes that as their moment to get out. He ignores Toph and Suki’s giggles at his expense and takes Sokka by the hand, running back outside and piling into the cart, under all the blankets they left behind. They lay there, warming up in the sun as it beats down on the cart. The sky is so blue, so as to denote a warm, sunny day, but the color is deceptive in the snowy plateaus around them. 

“What do you think they’ll find?” Sokka asks. Zuko shrugs. 

“I don’t know. I hope we get some answers. To the stone, to this mess with Amestris and the transmutation circle. Maybe our bodies, if we’re lucky.”

“And… and if there’s nothing?” Sokka asks. “I don’t want to be a downer, but… realistically, how sure are we that Gyatso would know about any of this? I mean, we’re only piecing it together about Amestris and the circle _now_ , and we practically had the people responsible rub it in our faces.”

“I don’t know,” Zuko admits. “Whatever plan my uncle has, I hope it works, then. I hope we can learn something that will help.” Sokka presses closer, warming him up. “Sorry.”

“For what? I asked,” Sokka points out. 

“Well, we’re out of Briggs and we still haven’t talked about… well…” Zuko doesn’t say _us_ but he means it. 

“You said we’d talk once we got somewhere warmer. I don’t think a cart in the sun by the mountains and a shack, still covered in _snow_ , counts as warmer,” Sokka mutters. “Also, I’m still trying to think of what to say.”

“Whatever you want?” Zuko suggests. 

“You say that like it’s easy. Why don’t you say something?” Sokka snorts. 

“For the same reason I never did before: I’m scared,” Zuko says. Sokka leans his head on Zuko’s shoulder. “I’m not brave like you, Sokka.”

“Of course you are,” Sokka argues. “Of course you are. Look what your dad did to you. And you still look him in the eye _every time_ you have to be around him. If that’s not bravery, then I don’t know what is.”

His words warm Zuko to his core. They make his gut untwist and his tongue relax. He presses his mouth to Sokka’s temple, not a full kiss, and stays there, breathing in his scent, warmed by his skin. They lay like that for a while, dozing in the sun. In their moments of wakefulness, Zuko tells Sokka about the best places in Central for food and entertainment, promises to take Sokka once all of this is cleared up. Sokka tells him about the automail engineer’s paradise that is Rush Valley, with its streets lined with automail shops, and the best masters in the country all in one place. 

“Would you move there?” Zuko asks, idly playing with a lock of Sokka’s hair that’s fallen out of his hair tie. 

“I don’t know,” Sokka muses. “I don’t think I could be so far away from my family.” His eyes flit to Zuko’s face. “I don’t think I’d want to be so far from you,” he admits, voice far quieter. It must have taken a lot of courage for Sokka to admit that to Zuko. Zuko swallows hard and tries to pay Sokka back in kind. 

“I would go with you, then,” he tells Sokka. 

Sokka turns in his arms and frowns. “But… you’re an alchemist. You’re posted in-”

“I don’t want to be the military’s dog forever. It’s not worth the money or the attention. I just want to do something quiet with my hands after all of this. And if that’s keeping the house clean while you make automail armor, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Already wanna be my house spouse?” Sokka jokes, but something about it makes Zuko’s belly tighten, a feeling like molten lava pooling in him. He’d give anything to be with Sokka like that, to marry him and settle somewhere quiet, where the military can’t tell him what to do and Sokka can practice his craft until they die quietly in their sleep, side by side like always. 

“Maybe,” Zuko admits, just as soft as Sokka had been earlier. Sokka’s jokey smile falls away as he hears the gravity in Zuko’s voice. 

“Zuko,” Sokka says, “do you remember, back in Resembool. You asked me when I would consider getting married, after you found out Haru got married earlier in the year.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Zuuko says, reaching back in his memory. He knows it wasn’t too long ago, but it feels like years since that happened. 

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“You asked me when I would consider getting married, instead of answering right away,” Zuko responds. “And I said only after I got my body back.”

“And then I told you I would wait for that day too,” Sokka says. 

“Yeah,” Zuko confirms. “So?”

Sokka stares at him, then he snorts and rolls his eyes. “C’mon Zuzu, I know you’re smarter than that.” At Zuko’s blank look, Sokka steels himself for his next words. “Zuko, I didn’t just say that to make you feel better about waiting - I said it because _you’re_ _waiting_. And I… I want to wait for _you.”_ Zuko’s brain stops working. He can’t formulate words and he wonders how blank his stare is right now but _what the fuck_. Did Sokka just say he wanted to wait for Zuko to be ready for marriage… so that _he_ could marry _Zuko?_ Because that sure sounded like what Sokka meant. 

“Sokka,” Zuko says, struggling to formulate a coherent thought. What the hell is Zuko supposed to say to that, except the truth? “Sokka, I think I lo-”

“Zuko!” Katara yells from the shack door. The magic is broken, shattered into a million pieces. Zuko sits up and looks over to where Katara is calling for him. “Zuko, come quick. You have to see this!”

“I’ll stay here,” Sokka says, curling up looking away from Zuko. “It’s probably best that I don’t see whatever is there and risk ruining your uncle’s plans.”

“Sokka…” Zuko mutters, but then Katara is calling his name again. “I’ll be back, okay?” Sokka doesn’t respond, so Zuko sighs, leans over, and kisses Sokka’s forehead - a mirror image of what Sokka had done for him when he was injured under Central Command. “I promise.” Zuko gets out of the cart and jogs over to Katara, going inside. Toph and Suki make their way out to join Sokka. 

“Can’t leave Snoozles alone,” Toph says, reluctantly putting her boots back on. “And honestly, I need some fresh air after hearing all of … _that.”_ Suki nods, pats Zuko on the arm as she passes by, and the two leave them to it. 

“What’s going on?” Zuko asks, making his way over to the fire. “Was there anything in there about getting our bodies back?” 

“No,” Katara admits. “I’m sorry, Zuko.” Zuko sighs. It had been a long shot, hadn’t it? On the other side of the fire ahead of them, Aang and Azula are kneeling among sheets of paper spread out on the ground, discussing something Zuko can’t quite make out. 

“Is that… the _notebook?”_ Zuko yelps, getting closer and seeing the pages scribbled with alchemical formulas. “What happened?”

“Azula got frustrated and threw it against a wall,” Katara says with a roll of her eyes, sitting next to Aang. “The pages came undone and we found a code - we layered all the sheets from the notebook using the word for alchemy that kept popping up in the Nomadic dialect.”

“And we found the transmutation circle of Amestris when we connected all the diagrams together,” Aang admits, looking at Zuko. 

“Gyatso _knew?”_ Zuko says, sitting beside Azula. 

“He suspected. He must have put together that the energy in Amestris felt wrong. He had so much in his notes about the differences between alchemy and alkahestry - he was studying that too! Especially the dragon’s pulse in alkahestry and how that corresponded with the concept of the ouroboros, the cyclical dragon eating itself, the All that is also One.” Aang stutters now. “He - he caught wind during the war of how they were making philosopher’s stones from the lives of the Nomadic people and he wrote about it here.” Aang frowns. “You wouldn’t… the two of you wouldn’t use-”

“No!” Zuko and Azula both shout together. 

“We would never. That’s despicable. We aren’t our father,” Azula assures Aang, sounding a bit miffed that Aang would even suspect that of them. 

“Okay,” Aang sighs. “Good. I didn’t want to believe that, so. Great.” He grins at them, then looks to Zuko. “Anyway, Gyatso knew something was going on. He realized that if you put blood seals on the four cardinal directions in the country, you could - with the way it was set up - create a large transmutation circle for the creation of the ultimate philosopher’s stone.”

“But wasn’t Sozin’s homunculus - _Father_ \- wasn’t he the ultimate stone?” Zuko wonders aloud. 

“According to Gyatso’s notes, there’s something else,” Katara admits. “But he never names it. Just calls it the All.”

Zuko frowns. “That’s from the theory that All is One and One is All - everything in the universe is connected, no matter how big or small. Does that mean that Father thinks he can access whatever that power binding the universe together is?”

“Maybe?” Aang says, scratching his head. “He doesn’t say. Just that it's possible if you have enough human lives and do it on a day that an alchemist could have the most power according to ancient rites. Gyatso called it the Ouroboros Theory. If you can get that massive amount of energy from those human lives swirling into a transmutation circle - into a never ending circle, like the ouroboros - then you can call on the All and force it to answer you.”

“...like… like God?” Zuko asks. He thinks, immediately, of the white shadow in the Doorway of Truth. Is that God? Is that what would surface if Father forced that ultimate Doorway to open with this circle?

“I don’t believe in your god,” Aang says with a shrug. “So I don’t really know.”

Zuko shakes his head. Regardless, it explained Father’s obsession with the ouroboros on his homunculi children. “You said that they had to do it on a day an alchemist could have the most power. What day is that?” Zuko asks. 

“On an eclipse,” Azula says. “One where the planets align with the moon and the sun. And there’s one coming up in the springtime, isn’t there?” Zuko recalls it vaguely. He doesn’t remember who mentioned it to them in passing, but there _is_ one, right in the spring. Some kind of astrological phenomenon. “With the circle around Amestris already done and the last blood seal laid, all Father has to do is wait for the eclipse.”

“And get his sacrifices,” Zuko reminds her. “Remember, he has us, Uncle, and his double - the _real_ Sozin.” Zuko frowns. “But wait, there’s a pentagram inside the circle - so he would need a sacrifice per vertice. That’s just how this goes. But he only has four of us. Who’s his fifth sacrifice?”

“I don’t know,” Azula says. 

“And if he’s using these sacrifices to transmute humans, he’ll be opening the doorway of Truth,” Zuko says. “So maybe… well, we’ve committed the Taboo. And so has the real Sozin. Maybe that’s what he’s looking for in his sacrifices.”

“Uncle hasn’t committed the Taboo, though,” Azula points out. 

That’s right. “Huh. Maybe not.” Zuko scrubs his hands through his hair. “But then, wait, how can we even stop this? If Gyatso could see it and still have no idea what to do about it, then what can we even do?”

“But that’s just it!” Aang says, clapping his hands excitedly and gesturing down to their papers. “He _did_ find a way to fix it.” Zuko looks down at the notebook sheets and sees another transmutation circle done, this one with aspects of alkahestry, like the five sided star and the dragon. “He created a reverse transmutation circle. Look.” Azula hands Aang the map of Amestris they had drawn the original circle on. He takes a pencil and draws the new circle superimposed on it. Then he taps on the five arms of the star that are drawn with the circle. On the end of each arm is a new pentagram. “The idea is to place a copy of this transmutation circle and symbol on each of these locations of the map.” Aang points to the spots that turn into stars and symbols on the new circle. “And to place souls in these spots to activate it.” He taps the middle, right on central, like the original circle. “Then place the rest of the souls in the center and set off this circle right as the original one finishes activating.”

“...souls?” Zuko says. “Aang, we’re not going to sacrifice people for this!”

“Of course we aren’t!” Katara says. “We know and we agree. When we were reading Gyatso’s directions on how to set up the new circle, we realized none of us are willing to hurt anyone. But that this is _also_ the only way we have to combat the homunculi and this new circle.”

“So we got to thinking… what if we already had the souls?” Azula finishes. 

“But we don’t,” Zuko says. Have they all lost their minds?

“Not us: _Sozin,”_ Azula says, sounding triumphant. 

Zuko is pretty sure his sister has lost her mind. “Azula, there is _no way_ that the Father of the homunculi is going to do _anything_ for us.”

“Not him!” Azula shouts. “Honestly, Zuko, you’d think mother dropped you on the head as an infant. The _original_ Sozin! You heard their Father - those souls from Xerxes were split in half between the original Sozin and his homunculus double, making them _both_ stones. The original Sozin can use the souls he already possesses.” Azula looks away and sighs. “He can free them. Finally.” 

“And help us in the process,” Katara finishes. “We just need to rescue him from Southern Command.”

“He’s in the south?” Zuko asks, surprised. “How do you know?”

“Because June was one of the homunculi that put him there. When Azula suggested the original Sozin, she told us she could get us into where he was being held in Southern Command,” Katara says. 

“So we have a date and the means to pull this off,” Zuko murmurs, looking at the new circle on  
the map. “We have to tell Uncle about the eclipse. So he can tell his group of conspirators. If they attack on that day, it’ll give us the time we need to set up the reverse circle with no eyes or attention on us.”

“Agreed,” Azula says. “I was thinking we could split up.” Zuko tenses and Azula immediately placates him. “Listen, please.” She never says please, so he does listen. “We split up into two teams. Team one goes down south and breaks the original Sozin out of his prison. I’m sure he’ll be willing to help us after that. And if not, I can think of a few ways to make him comply.” Aang shifts in discomfort at this. “Team one will start setting up the reverse circle with the souls.”

“I think if he bleeds, he can imbue the earth with them,” Aang says. “As for the copies of the circle that we need in strategic places, I think I can mobilize a few Nomad groups who would be willing to help. It’s not actual alchemy or alkahestry, so no one will feel wrong doing it. Amestris may not have been our home to start with, but it’s all we have left. And I want to help protect it.”

“I understand,” Zuko tells him, giving Aang a small smile. For one so young, he was being so brave. “And what about team two?”

“Team two goes to Western Command and brings the pai sho tile to General Bumi - _and_ lets him know about the eclipse, so he can pass on the message to the other groups. Team one can tell masters Jeong Jeong and Piandao when they’re in the south. We’d only need Bumi to ‘suggest’ that northern, western, and eastern troops have their joint training exercises on a day a week from the eclipse. That way, it gives them leave to show up on the actual day of the eclipse in so-called ‘preparation’ of their joint event.”

“And the western troops could move in, arming everyone with weapons from the south,” Zuko finishes. “You know, the old family manor that father left when he moved us to Central Command after becoming fuhrer… mother always said you could hide an army in our gardens. It’s abandoned now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Azula says, following his train of thought. “Suggest it as a rendezvous point to General Bumi.” Zuko nods. He hadn’t wanted to make the decision to use their own home solely by himself. He felt better with Azula’s support. 

“So, that’s settled. We get two teams, split up, and then wait for the eclipse,” Zuko says. He nods. “So, who are in the teams.”

“Well…” Katara trails off, unwilling to make eye contact. 

“You see, Zuko,” Aang starts, “we thought, we should probably have more people in team one, since we’re trying to break someone out and set up a whole array inside the country. And team two, well… team two is just _really_ delivering a message…”

“So, we thought, hey! Maybe just _two_ people would be enough for a message,” Katara continues. “One of which can’t really be privy to the rest of what we’re doing-”

“We’re all going to go down south and leave you and Sokka to get the message to Bumi,” Azula cuts in, merciless. “Deal with it. He’s too much of a liability and you're the seasoned alchemist out of all of us. We can’t let anything happen to you before the eclipse.”

Zuko wants to argue with them, he does. But at the same time, he knows they’re right. Sokka can’t go on the rescue mission or else Father _definitely_ will know about it and everything will be shot to shit. Uncle needs to know when to move on Central, and this information is time sensitive. They can’t all go to each place together. They have to split up. 

“We won’t see each other for a while,” Zuko says to his sister, looking into her fiery eyes. He can feel her looking back at him. 

“I know,” she says. 

“What happens if you black out into the Doorway and don’t wake up?” Zuko whispers, afraid. “And I’m not there?”

“Then you better find a way to get me back!” Azula growls. “Do you hear me? You get me back, or so help me…”

“I will!” Zuko exclaims. She’s afraid to die, but he’s afraid of her dying too. He’d rather risk himself than leave his sister behind. “Of course I will.”

“It’s settled then,” Katara says, standing up. Aang starts to clean up the notebook. He hands a copy of the new, reverse transmutation circle to Zuko. “Team one will consist of Azula, me, Aang, Suki, and Toph. We’ll go to Southern Command, warn your old masters about the eclipse, break the original Sozin out, and start creating the new circle and array.” She points to Zuko. “Team two is Zuko and Sokka, who will pass the attack message onto General Bumi and get the date of attack circulating.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Aang whoops. 

“Thank you, Aang,” Zuko says, pulling the young man into a hug as he stands. “We wouldn’t be able to do this without you.” Aang hugs him back fiercely, tightly. Though his arms are thin, they carry muscle and squeeze the air from Zuko’s lungs. 

“Of course. You’re our friends.”

“One last order of business,” Azula claims, clearing her throat. Zuko and Aang turn to her. 

“I agree,” Katara says. Zuko looks at her in question. 

In unison, Katara and Azula ask, “Who’s telling Sokka?”


	5. The West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Sokka are off to West City to carry out their end of the plan. But that's over quickly and the young men have time to kill. Zuko decides to call on his friends Mai and Ty Lee, and take Sokka on an impromptu vacation. Will these two finally get a minute to themselves to clear the air about what's been growing between them? And can they really stay safe in West City while waiting on their friends and family to fulfill their end of the plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, a romantic interlude because Zuko and Sokka need to work their shit out. There is a brief, fade-to-black sex mature scene that literally just alludes to the act and doesn't actually describe anything that happens in any detail at all, but it's there, so heads up, y'all. It comes right after their confession scene (yay, confessions!). But besides that and kissing, this fic is _not_ steamy at all. 
> 
> I said manlet!Zuko rights, in general for this fic because in the Fullmetal source material, Ed Elric has stunted growth due to his and his brother's souls mixing, with his brother's soul stuck in the other world beyond the Doorway of Truth. I did a similar thing here. However, as the tale gets closer to the Promised Day and Ed is away from his brother, grows taller, so I did that here as well. Also, ya know. The passage of time and what not. 
> 
> Fun fact: this chapter was the hardest one to write because I... I don't know actually. And it took me almost 2 MONTHS to write it to boot. Everything else was written within a day or a few days of each other. Except this bastard of a chapter. 60 days y'all oh my god. 
> 
> Onward!!!!

_ “I really need to talk to you,” Zuko says, looking at his hands and not at Mai, even though she’s right next to him. They’re in the apartment the military has set up from him and Azula in West City, finishing up their mission with General Bumi. It had been lengthy - taking up all the summer months - but they were finally done and now, Zuko had to do something  _ harder  _ than providing border support to a whacky, off-beat general amid skirmishes with their bordering enemy country.  _

_ He had to break up with his current girlfriend.  _

_ Zuko had come to that conclusion just last week on the very couch they’re sitting on. Mai is funny in a dry-wit sort of way, she can get as gloomy and broody as Zuko which makes her perfect to hang out with, and she’s thoughtful and caring. Mai is  _ great _ and Zuko likes her a lot, he just - he doesn’t  _ like _ her. He kisses her and doesn’t feel anything bubbling in his stomach. He holds her hand and calls her his girlfriend, but just feels a sort of oblique detachment about it. He cares about her, but he cares about her like he cares about Katara.  _

_ And Zuko can’t help but think about  _ Sokka _ every time he’s with Mai, about how Sokka makes him feel.  _

_ It isn’t fair to Mai, and she’s been distant the past couple of weeks. Maybe she senses that Zuko’s heart isn’t in it. Maybe she knows that he’ll be leaving soon and doesn’t want to continue a relationship that feels like a sham, dragging it out long-distance. Either way, to Zuko she’s a close friend and he feels like he owes her this honesty. It’s taken him a while to get here himself, too, and he’d love to finally be able to share with someone.  _

_ He’s gay.  _

_ “I’m gay,” Zuko blurts and wants to smack himself in the face. Talk about being 16 and stupid. He peeks up and to the side to look at Mai, to see if she’s mad or hurt, but he’s surprised to see the hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth. From Mai, it’s practically a full-bellied chuckle. “Mai?” _

_ “Don’t worry, Zuko,” she snorts, patting his shoulder. “You’re not doing much for me either. I’m a lesbian,” she explains.  _

_ Zuko sits. He stares. Then he snorts as a wave of relief washes over him.  _

_ “How did two gay people manage to date each other? We’re not even the right kind of gay for each other!” he exclaims, laughing and sitting back on the couch. He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. How ridiculous could they be? _

_ “Beats me,” Mai says with a shrug, whipping out a knife and scraping under her nails with the balde. “You don’t have the best adult supervision and my family doesn’t pay attention to me?”  _

_ “I guess,” Zuko says with a frown, sitting up. He knows Mai’s parents had just had another baby last year, giving the siblings a 15 year age difference. Zuko already struggles with the two years between him and Azula; he can’t imagine adding 13 to that. “You okay?” _

_ “I’ll be fine when you and Azula have to leave, if that’s what you mean,” Mai snorts. She puts down her knife and clenches her fists into the red and black silk dress she’s wearing. Having an ambassador for a father is good for some things, after all. “You have to promise not to forget about me, though.” She doesn’t look at Zuko when she says this. But Zuko doesn’t need to look into her eyes to know how much those words took out of her to say.  _

_ “Of course not,” Zuko assures her. He touches her shoulder and stifles a gasp when she throws herself into his arms for a hug. Zuko holds her tight. “I think you’re one of my best friends,” Zuko admits.  _

_ “I better be,” Mai grunts into his shoulder. She groans. “Ugh, do you really have to leave West City and run around being an alchemist?” _

_ “Kind of,” Zuko winces. She pulls back, blowing a lock of black hair from her amber eyes. He did always like her eyes. She sighs, adjusting one of the buns on the side of her head.  _

_ “Fine,” she intones, like she can’t be bothered. But she wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t care, that much Zuko knows. “You better write to me every month. Let me know if you ever get a boyfriend.” _

_ “Don’t you mean  _ when _ I get a boyfriend?” Zuko grumbles. She laughs and rises from the couch.  _

_ “I know what I said,” Mai responds. She straightens her dress and sighs. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, Zuko.” She pauses. “You’ll be back, won’t you?” _

_ “Of course,” Zuko says, walking her to the door. “And I’ll write every month. Thanks for coming to talk.” _

_ “Anything for my  _ best friend _ ,” she says with a roll of her eyes, taking her coat. “Is Azula out at the Western Command still?” _

_ “General Bumi let her sit in on the training the new officers assigned to the command center have to go through,” Zuko explains. “She wants to see that circus act that just opened at the theatre this month. You down for a late showing? As… as friends?” He wants them to be okay, even though he knows they are. “I uh, I think that girl you and Azula made friends with last month in the market is going to be there.” Zuko can’t remember her name quite right. Tally? She had been about Zuko’s height - so, shorter than Mai - and able to walk on her hands, her long hair braided back and falling into her face as she did so. Zuko mostly remembers the bright pink outfit she’d been wearing, clashing with Mai’s customary black and red. “Tally?” _

_ “Ty Lee,” Mai corrects, fiddling with a knife. The corner of her mouth twitches with a smile. “So that’s the surprise she was talking about…” Mai murmurs, shaking her head a little. “Sure, I’ll come. Maybe I can surprise her this time.” _

_ Zuko squints at her, suspicious. “Why are you smiling?” _

_ “No reason,” Mai replies, blase as she walks out the door. She stops and peeks at him over her shoulder. “You think she likes women?”  _

_ Zuko groans and rolls his eyes, but it’s worth it for Mai’s tittering laugh that he so rarely gets to hear.  _

* * *

It’s glaringly obvious that West City hasn’t been touched by war as recently as the other regions of Amestris. 

Streets are newly paved with shining cobble stones, people are out and about, even in a border city, and everything is actually quiet on the wall that separates Aerugo from Amestris. It’s dry out west, but still cold, though not as cold as the north had been. Zuko doesn’t think any place can get that cold. 

He makes it to Western Command in two days, Sokka in tow throughout the many train rides and transfers it took to get here so fast. They’d fallen asleep leaned against each other too many times to count, glad to be in a warm train car instead of exposed to the frosty, northern elements. Sokka has been coming to grips with his limited knowledge of what’s going on with his sister and their friends. 

“There’s a plan?” he had asked. Zuko had nodded. “And they’ll be safe with each other?” Zuko had nodded again. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s all I can really know then, huh?” A final nod. “Right.” 

Now, they stand outside of Western Command, a building made of sandstone only three stories high. It’s half the size of Eastern Command, a third of Southern Command, miniscule compared to the Briggs Fort, and a fraction of Central Command. Then again, Western Command  _ is _ the smallest command center, preferring to allocate a bulk of their funds to their troop barracks since they had the largest mobile force outside of Central. 

“Not what I was expecting,” Sokka admits, stretching and cracking his neck. “Kinda… small?”

“Yeah, General Bumi isn’t much for putting on airs  _ outside _ the building,” Zuko tells him, tugging Sokka by the elbow and up the front stairs. Zuko remembers the last time he saw the inside of General Bumi’s office; it had been covered in banners from his hometown, headdresses and robes from his family’s home culture and religion, and recruitment posters for Western Command that the general had been partial to. Zuko shudders to see what else has accumulated in there over the past three years. 

“Am I allowed to be in here with you?” Sokka asks as they make their way across the plain foyer, filled with nothing but a lone reception desk with a bored receptionist behind it, and a tapestry behind  _ him _ with the military logo emblazoned on it. 

“Well, I’m technically a major by military standards, so unless someone of higher rank doesn’t want you around for some reason, no one can tell me  _ not _ to have you around. Besides,” Zuko asks, as he takes the stairs two at a time, flashing his pocket watch at the inquisitive faces of officers that they pass, “I’m not going to leave you alone anywhere.”

“Worried Pride is going to snatch me away?” Sokka jokes as they round a corner to a hallway lined with doors to offices. Zuko pauses and looks at him. He puts his hands on Sokka’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes. 

“Yes,” Zuko responds earnestly. “And I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Sokka blinks at him, then grins a little. 

“Awh, Zuko,” he starts. “Are you scared for little ol’ me?”

“A little,” Zuko admits, chest tight. 

“I won’t let Pride do anything weird to me,” Sokka foolishly promises. Only foolish, Zuko knows, because there’s no way they can predict what Pride will do and neither of them are stronger than a homunculus. But he knows that Sokka means he’ll fight for his life and won’t go down easily, and that’s really all Zuko can ask of him. 

“I know,” Zuko responds. He lets go of Sokka and turns down the hall, aiming for the big door at the end of it. “Let’s get this done and over with.”

“And then what are we gonna do? Head back to Central?” Sokka asks. Zuko shudders. There’s absolutely  _ no way _ that he’s going back to Central without any backup. No, Zuko has a better idea. 

“Actually, I have a close friend here. We can stay with her and her partner.”

“Like… like a vacation?” Sokka asks as they come up on General Bumi’s office door. Sokka’s eyes go big with wonder. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, bracing himself and knocking. “A vacation.”

“For the two of us? And we won’t have to be working or dodging any nasties besides whatever’s attached to me?” Sokka clarifies as they wait. 

“Exactly,” Zuko confirms, turning to him. “This is our only task in the plan we all came up with. We just have to wait for the others.” He doesn’t tell Sokka that they get to wait out the winter months here in anticipation of the coming eclipse in the spring - Sokka can’t know that much or else Pride may listen in on it too. If they have to wait, they might as well take some time for themselves. Who the hell knew what was in store for them when spring came in the next two months? Zuko didn’t want to waste any time he had with Sokka. “We can stay here ’til then. Talk, finally.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Zuko’s ear. His hand lingers on Zuko’s cheek, on the scarred side, stroking his thumb down the edge of the scar where it met Zuko’s clear skin on his cheek. “I’d like that.”

Zuko swallows so hard he hears the gulp and opens his mouth to echo the sentiment when the office door opens. Both young men swivel to face it and there he is, the man himself: General Bumi of Western Command, the Crystalline Alchemist. 

Bumi’s hair has gone whiter since the last time Zuko saw him, a few more liver spots blooming beneath the skin of his cheeks as well. One of his eyes rolls and wanders to the left, while the other stays focused on Zuko and Sokka in front of him. Right now, the general is hunched over, but if he ever feels the need to be intimidating throughout the conversation, Zuko knows Bumi can easily straighten out to his full six and a half feet in height - a full  _ foot _ taller than Zuko. The general is dressed in the black of the military but his uniform is lined with the green of Western Command - like Paku’s uniform is lined in the blue of Northern Command and Uncle’s is lined in the Yellow of Eastern Command. 

“Fullmetal Alchemist! What a surprise!” General Bumi booms in that high, wheezy voice of his. Then he snorts and cackles. Zuko can  _ feel _ Sokka’s confusion beside him. 

“Hello General Bumi,” Zuko says, bowing with respect. Beside him, Sokka does the same. “I have a message about the spring joint training exercises from General Iroh Sozin. He wants you to join the activities this year.”

There’s no change in General Bumi’s demeanor, just an added twinkle in his eyes. 

“I see, I see. Do you have a verbal message or a missive, then?” General Bumi asks. Zuko holds up the envelope with the white lotus tile inside. General Bumi pauses, then steps out of his office and shuts the door behind him. Zuko can’t even get a look inside to see whatever new, bizarre accents the general has added since Zuko had last been here. 

“Sir?” Zuko asks, as Bumi takes the envelope and tucks it into the vest pocket of his uniform jacket. 

“I assume orders and requests are in this missive,” Bumi states, waiting for dissent. But Zuki nods. Inside the lotus tile, along with Uncle Iroh’s original missive, Zuko had scrawled his own, about the homunculi, Father, the eclipse, the Sozin family manor, and getting the attack date to General Pakku and Zuko’s uncle. If anyone could pull off such a feat, it would be General Bumi. Besides…

“I’ll be staying in town for the remainder of the winter if you need any clarification on that,” Zuko informs Bumi. Bumi hums and strokes his chin before nodding. 

“Indeed? And where will you be staying so that I may call on you, Fullmetal?” Zuko rattles off Mai’s new address; she’d since moved to her own apartment once she’d started courting Ty Lee. “Excellent. May I suggest the circus performance at the theatre and the museums downtown, if you and your boyfriend are looking for entertainment?”

Zuko feels his face go red and his tongue get too big for his mouth at the reference to Sokka. Technically they  _ aren’t _ but pretty soon they  _ might _ be, so Zuko doesn’t automatically correct General Bumi. The older man  _ must _ know what he’s doing because he cackles deviously at the looks on their faces. Zuko isn’t about to get a reputation for being rude to his superior officers though, so he bows. 

“Uh, thank you General Bumi, sir,” he stutters, determined  _ not  _ to look at Sokka, not while he can feel his blood setting fire to his cheeks. 

“Good, good, well, I’ll take a look at this and let you know if I need anything, shall I? Have a nice day!” And with that, the general turns on his heel, goes back into his office, and slams the door in their faces. Zuko blinks at the door and then finally turns to Sokka, who’s staring just as confused. 

“Is he… always like that?” Sokka asks. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Zuko admits. But he sighs. Their part of the plan is done. He just has to hope that two months is long enough for their friends and family to get down south and break the  _ original _ Sozin out of his prison. Until then, they can only wait. “Let’s get out of here,” Zuko suggests. He hesitates and then bites his lip, sticking his hand out to Sokka to hold. “If… if you want to.”

Sokka’s smile is blinding when he takes Zuko’s hand and clutches it with his own. 

They make their way out to street level hand in hand, and Zuko directs them downtown, where Mai and Ty Lee’s apartment is. West City is the oldest city after Central City, and it’s kept that heritage alive in the cobbled streets, the old, plaster and marble arches on buildings repurposed into banks and high end department stores filled with the newest hoop skirts for women and walking sticks for men. Sokka’s eyes widen at the ornate gas lamps on every street corner, the flower baskets hanging from the street signs that will blossom once spring comes. There’s a train station downtown, as well as one at the eastern end of the city. They’d come in on the later and missed the immersion of the former. 

“This place is beautiful!” Sokka says. The next block they pass has the theatre on it, its roof domed and shining with brass, the front doors large and hand carved oak, the sign done up with gold-gilded lettering. “Whoa!”

“My friend, the one we’ll be staying with, her partner works at the theatre. She’s part of the permanent circus act there. She does contortion and the trapeze. Probably a couple other things as well.” Zuko hasn’t been here in person since maybe last year. He misses Mai’s dark humor and Ty Lee’s bubbliness. 

“This is Mai, right?” Sokka asks. Zuko nods. “The ‘whole lesbian’.”

Zuko laughs. “Yeah, her.”

“Is this going to be a thing?” Sokka asks as they continue down the road, passing a bakery whose front wall is made up of glass panes that allow you to see into the confectionery and gaze jealously at all the pastries on display. “Us meeting each other's exes and hoping for the best?”

“Well, I don’t want any of them,” Zuko admits, looking down at their linked hands. 

“I supposed not, huh?” Sokka muses, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly. 

They fall silent, enjoying the city as they walk. Murals by local artists paint the sides of alley walls. Hulking automobiles that spew too much exhaust rattle on by. They pass the window of a jewelry store and Zuko stares longingly at a silver band with a single red ruby embedded in it, the image of it sitting snugly on Sokka’s ring finger plaguing his mind for the next block and a half. 

They finally make it to Mai’s. 

She's at the end of the block in a brownstone townhouse, the upper floor where the guest room is hemmed in by a balcony that looks over the top of the city. There are flower boxes in the windows of the ground floor - bright white dahlia’s that are  _ definitely _ Ty Lee’s doing. Zuko mounts the brick steps and pulls the chain that rings the bell through the house. 

“I’m kind of nervous to meet her,” Sokka admits, hopping from one foot to the other. There’s a smudge of gear grease on his nose that Zuko has only noticed now. Sokka had been fiddling with some on-the-go projects on the last train of their journey. 

“They’ll love you,” Zuko says, turning to Sokka. He licks his thumb and rubs at Sokka’s nose, ignoring Sokka’s squawk. “Just like I-”

“Zuko!” Ty Lee yells as she throws open the door and sees him. He turns and is practically mowed down by her. She manages to squeeze the air from his lungs, even in the dusky pink dress she’s in. It’s the latest style he’s seen all around Central - slim sleeves, tight bodice, poofed out, pillowed rump, and  _ frills _ down the front. God, but Mai must love Ty Lee so much to have bought her this. “Oooh and friend. He’s cute.”

“No, he’s Sokka,” Sokka chuckles with a rosy-cheeked grin. “Sokka Imiq, nice to meet you.”

“Oh,  _ you’re _ Sokka,” Ty Lee says, pulling away from Zuko and grinning at Sokka. Her hair is braided back in the style Zuko usually uses himself. He’d taught Mai how to do that braid last time he’d visited. Good to know she was putting it to good use. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sokka asks. 

“It means I like talking about you and Ty Lee is awful,” Zuko huffs. He tugs on Ty Lee’s ridiculous dress and says, “Hey, where’s your better half?”

“Rude!” Ty Lee squeals, but points up to the second floor where their room and parlors are. “She’s changing. She just got in from a meeting.” Mai is the head coordinator of the merchant’s guild in West City and keeps them all compliant and in line. “Come in, come in! It’s such a wonderful surprise to see you.”

“Sorry I couldn’t give prior notice,” Zuko says and almost kicks himself when Ty Lee stills at his wording. 

“Couldn’t, huh?” she muses softly. Then she grins. “I’ll put some tea on. Will you two be staying in the city long?”

“That’s part of what we wanted to discuss with you two, but the short answer is yes,” Zuko says. 

Before he can ask, Ty Lee cuts in with, “Then put your things down in the guest room. You’re  _ obviously _ staying with us.” She flicks her eyes over to Sokka and asks Zuko, “I hope it’s alright that you have to share a room.”

If Zuko could melt into the floor on demand, he would. 

Sokka answers, “I think we can manage,” and bumps his shoulder into Zuko’s automail one. Zuko swallows hard and nods, then leads them up the side staircase. The whole townhouse is done in muted earthy tones, straying into the warmer reds and ochres. The guest room is cream colored with brown accents. There’s a bed against the wall near the balcony doors, closed against the wintry chill, and a washroom suite off to the side behind a closed door. They have a large tub in there that Zuko can’t wait to get into. 

“Wow,” Sokka says, putting down his travel bag and shrugging off his parka. “It’s nice in here.”

“They both can afford it,” Zuko says, throwing down his bag. 

“Ty Lee is nice,” Sokka says, stretching. He goes to the balcony doors and looks through the glass panes, but doesn’t go out into the cold. 

“Yeah, she is. Mai, too. Just in a different way I guess,” Zuko admits, watching Sokka. They’re alone, but they’ll have to go down and explain their presence to Mai soon. They don’t have time to talk about  _ them _ , not now. “Sokka…”

“We should probably wait to talk, huh?” Sokka says, not turning from the doors. He tilts his head back, soaking in the sunlight that filters through the unshuttered panes. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Zuko agrees. “C’mon. I’m sure they have snacks.”

“Snacks?” Sokka yelps, turning from the window and rushing over. “Oh, I love snacks.”

Zuko chuckles. “I know.”

Sure enough, by the time they make it to the second floor parlor, Ty Lee already has tea set up on the little mosaic table in the room, tiny plates filled with cookies and scones Zuko knows Mai makes when she’s stressed about work. Sokka plops down onto a fancy, satin upholstered settee, and digs in. Zuko sits beside him and across from Ty Lee, and fixes them both cups of tea. 

Mai comes in a moment later. 

She’s in a similarly styled dress as Ty Lee, sans frills and completely black, trimmed in red ribbon. She takes a seat by Ty Lee and takes in the sight of Sokka with a scone crammed in his mouth and Zuko placing Sokka’s tea in front of him. 

“Welcome back west,” Mai says, the ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. Zuko looks over to her and grins, truly happy to see her. 

“Thanks. Good to be back.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your unannounced, impromptu, supposed vacation?” Mai asks him, getting to the heart of the matter. Sokka chokes on his scone and Ty Lee winces a bit. 

“Mai…” she murmurs, a hand on the young woman’s arm. 

“I love him, Ty Lee, but Zuko is always too busy to take time off, so the fact that he’s on vacation for an indeterminate amount of time is setting off the alarm bells for me,” Mai says back. 

“You’re direct,” Sokka says, still coughing. He takes a sip of the tea and scalds himself. God, Zuko is in love with this disaster. 

“It’s easier this way,” Mai admits. “My wife tells me you’re Sokka Imiq.”

“Your  _ wife!?” _ Zuko snaps, eyes dropping to both women’s hands. And sure enough, wedding bands that hadn’t been there last year adorn their ring fingers. “When did you two get  _ married _ and why wasn’t I invited?” Zuko asks. It stings a little bit. 

“No one was invited because  _ someone _ wanted to be a party pooper,” Ty Lee mutters, glaring at Mai from the corner of her eye as she takes a sip of tea. 

“Three months ago,” Mai responds as though Ty Lee hadn’t spoken. It seems this is an argument they’ve had too many times. “It was a very small ceremony consisting of ourselves, her sisters, and my parents.”

“It couldn’t have been that small if all Ty Lee’s sisters were invited,” Zuko jokes. Mai barely holds back a chuckle and it comes out as more of a scoff. 

“How many sisters  _ do  _ you have?” Sokka asks, finally not choking. 

“Five - we’re sextuplets,” Ty Lee says with an eye-roll. 

“Whoa and I thought we had it bad with younger sisters,” Sokka mutters into his tea cup. 

“We’ve heard a lot about you and your arms,” Mai says, taking the attention off her  _ wife  _ \- that’s going to take Zuko a minute to get used to. And to stop feeling terribly jealous about. He’s known Sokka longer than Mai and Ty Lee have known each other and  _ they’re _ already married? God, they were so lucky. 

“My arms?” Sokka muses. He shoots Zuko a wicked grin. “Add that to the list of things to talk about.”

“And speaking of talking, why are you in town?” Mai asks, getting back to her original question. She pours herself some tea, quietly noting it’s her favorite and gently nudging Ty Lee’s shoulder with her own in thanks. “Talk, Sozin. And don’t lie to me. You know I can tell and have no patience for it.”

“...it’s complicated,” Zuko admits. 

“Uncomplicate it. You’re the youngest state alchemist in Amestris' history. I’m sure you can manage.”

Sokka shrugs. “Short version?” he says to Zuko. It’s worth a shot.

“There’s some fuckery going down in Central with the military,” Zuko says. “We’re trying to stop it. Part of the plan leaves me and Sokka here for a bit If you can’t house us for too long and on such limited information, I understand.”

“Don’t be silly, Zuko!” Ty Lee cuts in before Mai can negate her words. “Of course we can have you two, can’t we, Mai?” Mai sighs, but nods. “When should we expect Azula?”

The mention of his sister cuts right into Zuko’s chest. He misses her fiercely already. It’s so odd not to have her hulking presence hovering by his side. 

“She - she won’t be up here. We’re meeting up with her at a later date,” he says. His voice only shakes a little and he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed when Sokka’s hand rests over his own on the table in front of them. The comfort means more to him. 

“... are you safe?” Mai asks, putting her teacup down with a clink. 

“For now, yes,” Zuko responds. 

“Are  _ we _ safe?” she continues. 

“Yes. If I thought you two would be in danger, I wouldn’t have come here,” Zuko admits. Mai slits her eyes at him and Zuko sees Sokka pull back from her in surprise. 

“We can handle a little danger, Sozin,” she growls, huffing to the side. “I just want to be sure we have a heads up for it  _ before _ hand, that’s all.”

“Alright, alright,” Zuko says. “I know.”

“Will you be working while you’re here?” Ty Lee asks. Zuko shakes his head  _ no _ and she claps in delight. “Oh, then you  _ have  _ to come to the cirque performance at the end of the week. We always do a special performance for the new year!” Zuko hadn’t even noticed, but it was the end of the first month of the new year. What the actual  _ fuck _ . 

“I didn’t realize…” He trails off and shakes his head. “Wow. Um. Yeah. Sokka, you want to see the show?”

“That wasn’t a suggestion - we’re all going to support my wife,” Mai cuts in. 

“I do want to go, for the record,” Sokka admits, taking a cookie. “Hey, these are great. Which one of you makes these?” 

Zuko knows Mai will defend Sokka to the death now, for three reasons. The first is that Sokka is so ready to support Ty Lee’s work, and Mai holds dear all those that buoy her wife up. The second is that Sokka hasn’t automatically assumed that Ty Lee does all the house chores just because she’s the more bubbly and traditionally feminine of the two. The third is that he likes Mai’s baking. All in all, Zuko is sure that Sokka has endeared himself to his grim friend all in one breath. Impressive. God, that is so  _ hot _ . 

“I do,” Mai admits, voice monotone and steady. “Thank you.”

“I also noticed some truly impressive Xingese throwing knives on display on the back wall of the parlor,” Sokka continues. “Which one of you uses those?”

“Also me,” Mai says, frowning at him. “You recognize Xingese weaponry?”

“My ex and one of our close friends are from Xing,” Sokka explains, wiping his mouth with one of the fancy cloth napkins from Ty Lee. He gently burps into it and barely remembers to excuse himself. “I’ve gotten used to the way their craftsmanship looks.”

“Plus, he’s an automail mechanic,” Zuko points out. “He’s going to remember details like that when it comes to weapons.”

“This is also true,” Sokka agrees. “I don’t know how active you are with your knife-work, but I’ve studied some as well and wouldn’t mind practicing a bit. I know I’m rusty.” He shrugs. “I mean, I am more of a firearms kind of guy, but it’s always good to keep up with it.” 

Zuko’s about to agree but when he looks at Mai and Ty Lee, he sees the cogs turning in their minds, the twinkle in their eyes as they start to piece together that Zuko and his company are really wrapped up in something big. 

“You two are in pretty deep shit, aren’t you?” Mai says. Ty Lee springs up. 

“Mai!”

Sokka sighs. “You have no idea.”

* * *

Zuko really does want to talk to Sokka about where they stand and what they are. But once they bathe and lay in bed after dinner, he feels the exhaustion of everything they’ve been through hit him like the train they rode into the city on. 

“Can we talk tomorrow?” Zuko asks, feeling guilty as he says it. “I’m sorry, I’m just - I don’t think I can keep my eyes open.”

“I get it,” Sokka says around a yawn. “Wow, okay. Yeah. Tomorrow works. Or like, whenever, man. Take your time if you need it, you know?” Sokka looks a little apprehensive, in a long night shirt he had packed, all wrinkled from being shoved at the bottom of his pack. 

“Okay,” Zuko says, even though he _ knows _ what he wants, damn it. 

They’re used to sharing a bed from all the sleepovers they’d had as children, but this is a little different. The bed is plenty big, and they  _ do _ fall asleep on opposite ends. But when morning comes, Zuko has an arm thrown around Sokka’s waist and Sokka has a leg slotted between his. It’s comfortable and quiet in the morning, the sun just peeking out from the horizon. Sokka has somehow found comfort even with all of Zuko’s metal appendages getting in the way. He sleeps with his hair down and it falls into his face. Zuko wants to kiss him so, so badly. He wants to wake up to this for the rest of his life. 

Oh god. 

When Sokka wakes up with a soft smile on his face, Zuko feels his resolve breaking. 

“Sokka,” he starts, but Sokka’s stomach grumbles and he sniffs the air. 

“Oooh, someone’s making sausage,” Sokka moans. He hides his face in Zuko’s shoulder, making Zuko lose his train of thought. “Oh god, I want it so bad.”

That ends any confessions on Zuko’s end. And they keep getting interrupted after that. 

First Ty Lee wants to take them to the boutiques downtown in the main plaza. Sokka, ever the shopaholic, begs Zuko to go, so Zuko stops by the local bank to withdraw some cash from his seemingly endless military stipend account. While he’s waiting for his withdrawal to be filled, he’s asked by a teller to confirm a wire of cash to their southern bank location and Zuko signs without any expression, though he’s filled with relief. Azula must have sent someone to the bank with one of Zuko’s IOU letters. He’d given her a few to use if she ever got separated from him and needed funds. It means they’re safe and continuing with the mission. He doubts the Fuhrer or Father is going to be looking too closely at his financials when they have bigger fish to fry. And if anyone asks, well, he’s got Jeong Jeong and Piandao down south to use as an excuse. Just paying back old debts, he’d say. 

Zuko lets Sokka know everyone is safe and Sokka is good enough not to ask how he knows, just accepts it and drags Zuko shopping for appropriate clothing for the end of year event at the theatre. He ends up with some ridiculous burgundy suit and a bolo tie set with a stone that burns the same gold as his eyes. Sokka’s suit jacket has long coattails and is sapphire blue, set against black dress pants and boots that button up the sides and reach his calves. They end the day in exhaustion. 

The day after that, Mai insists they get some cultural time in and visit the museums. It’s interesting to see the bloody history of Amestris the way Amestris paints it for its citizens. He and Sokka share looks at all the propaganda of a united nation, rightfully taking the land around it as reparation for the transgressions of  _ other _ nations against them. Zuko is 100% positive that all the skirmishes and battles Amestris has sought reparations for had secretly been catalyzed by Amestris itself for the creation of the transmutation circle. By the look on Sokka’s face as they walk through the exhibits, he agrees. 

There is one museum they visit the day after that - the sister location to the automail museum of Amestris in Rush Valley. They spend the entire day there with Sokka drooling over historical recreations of what the first bits of automail looked like, pointing out bits of history he was familiar with as they read the placards on the walls, and gazing at the inventors of the mechanical science with adoration and admiration. Ty Lee feeds off his enthusiasm like a leech, and their joy is contagious. They run around the museums with each other, cracking jokes and sharing snacks Ty Lee has snuck in inside her purse, since most of the museums had a no food and drink policy. 

Mai and Zuko follow behind them at their own leisure, tiny smiles on their faces as they watch their better parts go about. 

“You really match well with him,” Mai tells Zuko. “I like him. He’s a bit too loud for my tastes, but then again, so is Ty Lee and I still married her.”

“He means a lot to me,” Zuko tells her. 

“You don’t have to say it for me to know, Zuko.” She squeezes his hand in hers and graces him with a rare smile. “I can see it.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“He is too.”

The day after, Mai gets called in to deal with an issue in the merchant’s guild and is gone for hours. Ty Lee is at rehearsal and it leaves Zuko and Sokka alone for most of the day. It’s the perfect time to talk but they get distracted by Zuko’s automail. Sokka insists on tweaking it after seeing all those schematics at the museum the day before, and if Zuko is going to keep the lighter, cold-weather automail, then he has to let Sokka adjust some of it back to regular weather automail. Something or other about friction? 

Sokka sets them up in the guest room with the sun coming in through the glass panes of the balcony doors. He claims the light is better up there. Zuko is laying on a settee they lugged up the narrow staircase from one of the parlors, Sokka sitting beside him with all his tools laid out on the floor, a towel under them to prevent grease or oil from staining the hardwood. It’s familiar. It’s comforting. Zuko dozes, coming in and out of consciousness as Sokka works. Sokka hums some sort of song, one Zuko only recognizes because of how frequently Sokka sings or whistles it while he works. 

“What’s that song?” Zuko asks, rubbing an eye with his flesh and blood hand. Sokka had promised to work on his leg next, so Zuko is patiently waiting. 

But the questions slows Sokka in his work. He puts a wrench down and stares out at the balcony again. 

“A lullaby,” Sokka says, finally. His voice is heavy and hushed. “My mother used to sing it to us before we went to sleep.”

“Oh,” Zuko murmurs. They don’t talk about Kya a lot - but then, they don’t talk about Ursa either. Their mothers are something each holds so close and it hurts, sometimes, to even mention the good memories of them. “Sorry.”

“No, I mean.” Now Sokka chuckles. “Look, if anyone is going to understand how I’m feeling right now, it’s you, you know?” He picks up the wrench and goes back to Zuko’s arm. “You're just as hot headed as she was. I think Katara gets that from our mom, and it’s why you two get along so well.”

“We are not hot headed!” Zuko snaps and then realizes just how hot headed that shounded. He groans and Sokka laughs. 

“It’s not a bad thing! You can be hot headed and still sing your kids lullabies - my mom was proof of that.”

“...would you ever sing it to your kids?” Zuko asks. It’s a roundabout way of asking  _ do you even want kids? _

“Yeah, I think I would. Maybe  _ kid _ though,” Sokka admits as he finishes tightening something and adjusts some mesh on Zuko’s mechanical bicep. “I know we both have younger sisters, but sometimes I wonder if one of us and a dog would have been less of a headache for my dad,” Sokka laughs. And Zuko laughs too until he realizes Sokka just mentioned  _ both  _ of them when talking about children. Future children.  _ Their _ future children?

“I think one kid would be nice, too,” Zuko admits as Sokka puts his wrench away. “I’m kind of used to taking care of girls though, so I may have a preference for one.”

It’s a little thing, something small of his heart to offer up on a platter. And even though it’s not much, Sokka takes it gladly. 

“I think a little girl would be nice. With her big, growly dog to protect her,” Sokka responds. His voice has fallen a little back into the hush. One hand strokes up Zuko’s metal arm, his thumb tracing where the metal of the shoulder port meets his skin, just below his clavicle. “We should probably talk soon, huh?” Sokka says. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, eyes closed. “Yeah we should.” 

But they don’t - at least, not that afternoon. Sokka reconnects Zuko’s arm and goes to work on his leg instead. 

“You sure you don’t want a knee cannon?”

“No!”

* * *

The day after that, on the day before the new year performance, Sokka gets sick. 

“I told you those steamed buns didn’t smell right,” Zuko tells him, sitting in bed with him as Sokka burrows under the blankets and moans, clutching his abdomen. 

“It’s steamed  _ buns _ ,” Sokka responds. “How do you mess up steamed buns? Your curry seemed fine.”

“I’ve been getting curry at that corner stall for years,” Zuko responds. It’s the afternoon and they had been wandering the main square downtown, finally stopping for lunch at the food stalls. Zuko went for the aforementioned curry he knew he could trust, but Sokka had wanted to try the new bun stall. Zuko’s nose had never led him astray; there was something  _ off _ about those buns. But Sokka had been determined, missing the buns from Resembool. 

“I’m dying,” Sokka mutters into a pillow. He’d only just stopped throwing up. Ty Lee had sent up some ginger tea before heading off to her last dress rehearsal. Mai is doing paperwork in her office on the first floor. It’s just them. They could talk about what they need to talk about, but Sokka is in no condition to carry on an intelligible conversation. 

“No you’re not. I wouldn’t let you die,” Zuko replies. He rubs a hand up and down Sokka’s back. Sokka harrumphs under the blankets. “Do you want me to get you another hot water bottle for your belly?” Zuko asks. “Maybe some more tea?”

“...yes, please.”

Zuko runs down to the kitchen on the first floor and makes them more ginger tea, careful to time the tea leaves and ginger root in boiling water just right. Uncle Iroh is a fan of tea and Zuko has spent years learning how to make tea like his uncle does. Azula is a lot more attentive than he is, and just making tea makes Zuko think of her, miss her like hell. He feels like he’s lost a part of himself without her here. This is the longest they’ve ever been away from each other. It’s an adjustment. 

“How’s your boy feeling?” Mai asks, taking a break from the gruelling stack of papers that demands her attention. 

“He’s surviving,” Zuko responds. He doesn’t bother correcting Mai anymore; she’s not entirely wrong and besides, he doesn’t  _ want _ to correct her. Soon, she won’t need correcting. He and Sokka  _ will _ discuss things and figure out where they stand, how far they can go into it now once their feelings are out in the open. He pours the rest of the water he had boiled for tea into a natural rubber hot water bottle and stoppers it, wrapping it in a cloth so it doesn’t burn Sokka’s skin when he presses the heat against his stomach. 

“Will he be able to see Ty Lee’s performance tomorrow?” Mai asks, concern coloring her voice. Zuko suspects it’s more because Ty Lee may lose an audience member and less because Sokka may still be feeling poorly. 

“I hope so. He really wanted to go,” Zuko tells her. Then he takes the tray of tea, balances the hot water bottle on it, and takes it upstairs. 

Sokka is asleep when Zuko pads into the room. He sets the tray down on the desk in the corner and brings the hot water bottle to the bed, tucking it against Sokka’s upset stomach and then pulling the covers up around him. 

Zuko stays busy and unpacks their bags as Sokka sleeps. They’d never gotten around to it, but they’ll be here for a while so they’d might as well store their clothes in the dresser and closet. He hangs their things up and folds others into drawers, then settles Sokka’s rifle case and pistol box on the desk by their tea tray. Sokka’s automail toolbox has found its way under the desk already and Zuko supposes they can stay there. If they ever do cohabitate in the future, Zuko is making sure Sokka gets a room for his firearms and his automail tools. 

Zuko had once asked Sokka why he had learned how to shoot, how to take a life when he was already so good at healing through automail, at  _ preserving _ life. 

“It wasn’t Nomads who killed my mom,” Sokka had responded. They had been 14 and 15 at the time. “It was Amestrian alchemists. They blew up the whole block my mom was working in. She used her alkahestry to heal Amestrian soldiers  _ and _ Nomadic people. She just happened to be helping the Nomads that day.” Zuko had fallen quiet. “I guess I thought if I had been there, if someone with a good eye and better aim had been there to shoot down those alchemists, all those people -  _ my mother _ wouldn’t have died.” Then he’d laughed and finished putting his pistol back together. “But I know that’s wishful thinking. Soldiers do what they’re told. No one is going to go against the Fuhrer’s orders.”

Those words still haunt Zuko.  _ Soldiers do what they’re told _ , he thinks.  _ But not me. Not anymore. _

After dinner, Zuko checks on Sokka again and is glad to find him sitting up. He’s pale, but he doesn’t have the urge to vomit anymore, so that’s a good thing. He drinks the cold ginger tea and Zuko refills the hot water bottle with hot water again, pressing it to Sokka’s side in bed as he clutches it to his stomach. 

“How are you feeling?” Zuko asks. 

“A lot better,” Sokka admits, his head on Zuko’s automail shoulder, apparently not minding the dig of metal into the side of his head. “Thanks. And sorry I was so boring today.”

“You don’t have to be super fun all the time for me to want to be around you,” Zuko tells him, the declaration making him antsy. “I like you just the same when you're puking over a bowl as I do when you’re fixing my automail.”

“You’re gross,” Sokka teases and laughs when Zuko pretends to go and shove him off his shoulder. “No, wait! Mercy, I’m still recovering!” Zuko smothers a smile and leaves Sokka where he’s leaning against Zuko’s body in bed. “No, seriously. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“I wanted to,” Zuko admits, allowing his hand to brush through Sokka’s hair. Sokka leans into his touch and it makes Zuko’s cheeks heat and his stomach clench in anticipation. “You think you’re gonna be well enough to see Ty Lee perform tomorrow?” Zuko asks. 

“Absolutely,” Sokka insists. “Even if I’m still puking, I will be there.”

_ “That’s _ gross,” Zuko says. “There’s always next year.” Sokka falls still. Zuko realizes just how dicey his comment had been. 

“We don’t know what the world will bring next year,” Sokka admits, his fingers fiddling with the buttons on Zuko’s sleeping shirt. “But this year, tomorrow? I’m going to be here, in West City, with  _ you _ . And I want to see the performance. With  _ you _ .” Sokka lets out a breath and tilts his head back to look at Zuko. “Okay?”

He’s in the most perfect position for Zuko to lean down a little and kiss him on the mouth. It takes everything in Zuko  _ not _ to do that, because they haven’t talked yet and he doesn’t have a right to try anything until  _ after _ they’ve spoken about their feelings. So Zuko nods.

“Okay,” he responds to Sokka. They fall asleep in that position. 

* * *

Sokka is feeling much better the following morning. 

He’s up before Zuko is and helps Ty Lee make breakfast. Zuko comes down to the first floor kitchen, shuffling in with a disheveled Mai. They sit at the breakfast nook while Ty Lee and Sokka run around, high on excitement for the event tonight. Ty Lee has promised that the theatre is setting off fireworks and Sokka has never seen professional ones lit up, just whatever they manage to scrape together during the Resembool Sheep Festival out in the boonies. 

“How are they  _ this  _ cheery  _ this  _ early?” Mai mutters into her cup of tea. 

“Beats me,” Zuko grumbles back, his head on the table. 

“Head up, Zuko,” Sokka calls a moment later. “Let’s eat and then get ready for tonight!” 

“The show is ten hours away, Sokka,” Zuko cries, accepting the plate of eggs and sausage. “We don’t need ten hours to get ready.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sokka huffs, sitting across from him. 

“I’ll be working until four,” Mai sighs into her cup, smiling as Ty Lee sits across from her. 

“I’ll be heading out to the theatre at five,” Ty Lee says. “I’ll help you with your dress ties before I leave, dear.”

“Thanks,” Mai intones, rolling her eyes, but there’s a smile Zuko spies from the corner of her mouth, where it’s hidden behind her cup. 

Mai heads to work after they eat, Ty Lee goes to get her clothes ready for later, and Zuko offers to clean up from breakfast. Sokka stays with him, drying dishes beside him as Zuko washes them. It’s companionable. 

“We really,  _ really  _ should talk before the show,” Sokka says as he puts the last plate back into a cabinet. Zuko feels the apprehension climb up his throat, but he still makes an effort to respond and nods dumbly. Sokka shoots him a sunny smile. His hair is pulled back, the sides of his head gone fuzzy. He hasn’t had a moment to shave them down. Maybe that’s something he wants to do today that will justify taking so many hours just to get ready for one event. 

Sokka takes Zuko by the hand and tugs him upstairs. When they make it to the guest room, Sokka sits Zuko down on the bed, closes the door room door, and goes into the ensuite washroom, running a bath. He pops into the bedroom and gestures for Zuko to come into the washroom with him. 

“Get in,” he says, turning around. “I won’t peek, promise.” Zuko is a bit nervous, but he disrobes and gets into the tub, letting the warm water soak into his bones. He leans his head back on the rim of the tub. The taps are made of copper plated and the tub is porcelain and clawfooted. 

“Are we going to talk?” Zuko asks as he feels Sokka pour water on his head to wet his hair and start soaping it up. 

“Not now,” Sokka says. “We can just chill and have you enjoy a bath for right now. Calm down, huh? I can feel you freaking out from here.” Zuko goes with it, lets Sokka wash and rinse his long hair, takes the sweet smelling bar of soap and washes himself as Sokka leaves to get him a towel. Sokka lets him dry off in peace and when Zuko exits the washroom, hops in himself. He strips and dives into Zuko’s bathwater, unperturbed by it being used. Zuko dresses in loose pants and a sweater, gets Sokka a towel, and leaves it in the washroom for him. 

Sokka exits soon after and grabs a change of clothes. He changes back in the washroom and when he comes out, flops onto the bed by Zuko. 

“Better?” Sokka asks. 

“Yeah, much better,” Zuko admits. He feels more relaxed with them both a little damp and soft from their baths. “Now we talk?”

“Now we talk,” Sokka says. He stays laying down on the bed, looking up at Zuko from his back. “So.”

“So.” How do they go about this?

“It’s come to my attention that we may have feelings for each other,” Sokka says. 

Well, that’s one way to do it. “Yeah, seems like it.”

“But  _ what _ feelings?” Sokka muses aloud. “The only way we can find out is if we tell each other.”

Zuko snorts. “Are you offering to go first?”

“I can, if that’s easier for you,” Sokka admits, closing his eyes. “I’m a little nervous though, so I’m just gonna lay here for a minute and gather my thoughts.”

“Okay,” Zuko says. He waits, smoothing down the little tufts of Sokka’s hair that stick up. 

“Okay, so I really, really like when you touch me like that,” Sokka says out of nowhere, opening his eyes slowly. He looks up at Zuko as if waking from a dream. The words punch the breath from Zuko’s chest. “Soft and gentle, like you don’t want me to break even though it’s going to take a lot more than that to hurt me. And I really like how you look at me, and speak to me. I’ve known you for so long, and it always felt different with you. Life, I mean. Everything feels like a live wire when you’re around, Zuko. And I really like - no, I  _ love _ that about being around you. You’re kind and generous and  _ so smart _ . A little dumb, too,” he adds with a laugh that makes Zuko swallow harshly. “But that’s okay, because I am too.”

“Sokka…” Zuko trails off. 

“I’m not done,” Sokka says, and finally sits up. He turns to face Zuko and takes one of Zuko’s hands in his. It’s the automail one, just because it had been closer to Sokka to grab, and Sokka had never shied away from holding onto any part of Zuko he could get his hands on, automail or not. “Our whole lives, I’ve been wondering how we fit together and I realized my life is never going to be complete without you in it. Not just as a side character to the story of my life, but with a main role. I want you to be starring in it across from me.” He stops, frowning. “I think I just took the metaphor too far, but.” He exhales. “Like I was saying in the north: I wanted to wait to get married because I’m waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me to choose someone?” Zuko asks. 

“Yeah,” Sokka admits. “And I’ll be honest I…” He trails off again and his hands shake where they clutch Zuko’s automail hand. “I hope it’s me,” Sokka whispers. He looks into Zuko’s eyes, never shying away from Zuko’s scarred face, because he knew the boy Zuko was before it and knows the man he’s become after it. “I  _ want  _ it to be me. Zuko, I know we’re just childhood friends, but I could make you so, so happy and I  _ want to _ because you deserve that.”

“You  _ do _ make me happy,” Zuko insists, clutching back at Sokka’s hands with both of his own. “Your hands healed me. You gave me a way to stand on my own and support myself again. You’re good to my sister and you’ve never judged us when it’s so easy to - warranted, even. You give me everything I need. You give me everything I  _ want _ .”

“But as a friend?” Sokka surmises, sighing and wilting. 

“As  _ yourself _ ,” Zuko corrects, wanting to assure Sokka that he is  _ everything _ Zuko could ever want. “As yourself, Sokka. You give me  _ everything _ . And I want as much of that as you’re willing to give.” He steals himself. This is it. “It’s like the law of equivalent exchange - I’ll give you half of me if you give me half of you.”

“Fucking alchemists, with your pieces and swapping,” Sokka bemoans. “Why don’t I just give you  _ all  _ of me?”

Zuko’s eyebrows hit his hairline. Well that was forward. Sokka seems to realize as well because he starts stuttering out excuses, about how maybe 80 percent is better, if not 100 percent. Maybe 75 percent wasn’t enough?

“Can I kiss you?” Zuko asks, cutting through the excuses. He surprises himself with how direct he’s being. “Right now, can I kiss you?”

“I… yes, oh god,  _ yes _ ,  _ please,” _ Sokka agrees and then shuts up altogether when their lips meet. It’s soft and sweet, but it still feels burning hot when Zuko’s tongue is in Sokka’s mouth. Their hands stay clutched together, and eventually they part just a bit to breathe. “Okay.”

“I think I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but Sokka,  _ I love you, _ ” Zuko finally whispers against Sokka’s mouth, like it’s a secret that can only be spoken between the two of them. “And I don’t know where tomorrow will take us or even an hour from now, but I know that I’ll still love you. When the dust settles and we’re into a new dawn, I’m still going to love you. No matter what.” Zuko pulls back and looks away. “I want the future where we settle down in Rush Valley so you can open a shop and I take odd jobs, watch the baby, and play with the dog. I want the future where we visit you in town and there’s no Fullmetal Alchemist, just Zuko Imiq, the automail mechanic’s husband. I want the future where Aang and Katara visit on the weekends with your dads, where we visit Toph and Suki every month at her family estate in Xing because we’re on our own time and answer only to the vows we made to each other.” He looks up at Sokka, finally, holding back his own tears at the sight of Sokka’s. “Why are you _ crying?” _

_ “Because _ I love you, too, you doofus, c’mere, lemme kiss you again,” Sokka mutters, already reeling Zuko back in. He presses kisses all over Zuko’s face, neck, and mouth, slides his hands under Zuko’s loose shirt and presses his warm fingers into Zuko’s skin. “I didn’t think we could have this,” Sokka admits, pressing kisses everywhere, continuously.

“Why not?” Zuko gasps, laying back on the bed and letting Sokka follow him down. 

“Because everything is crazy and scary right now, and it feels almost  _ selfish _ to steal a moment of comfort and happiness during it,” Sokka replies. 

“This is how we survive,” Zuko counters. “Any speck of light in the dark. This is how we survive. My mom used to say that.”

“I think she was right… can we lay here? Can we lay here like this for a while, just us? I just want to hold you. We don’t have to do anything else.”

“Okay,” Zuko agrees, pulling Sokka into his arms. “We can do that.”

They do that. They do a lot more too, but the sweat and hands clenched in sheets and muffled moans come later. 

First they hold each other and breathe. And survive. 

* * *

“You two clean up nicely,” Mai says, later, after they’ve taken another bath, this time together, after Zuko has slowly shaved down the sides of Sokka’s head, after Sokka has braided Zuko’s hair back from his face, and after they’ve changed into their suits bought earlier in the week. 

“Not so bad yourself, Mai,” Sokka responds. Mai rolls her eyes, but Zuko knows what it looks like when she preens. Her hair is down for once, her dress red instead of black. They all head out to the theatre and get there a bit earlier than the crowd. Mai has seasonal box seats, so they sit high above the main floor, the audience flowing in like molasses over the next hour. 

“So, Ty Lee mentioned the ‘cirque’ which as far as I know means circus,” Sokka says, gazing at the glittering people that make their way into the theatre. The sconces on the walls are all lit, lighting up the inner dome above them, every moulding and carving painted with gold leaf. “What kind of circus act is this?”

“They take in hurt animals that can no longer be returned to the wild,” Mai explains, browsing the program they were given upon entering. It’s on fancy stock paper dyed in rich reds and blues. “They care for them, then incorporate them safely into their acts. Most of it is performers like Ty Lee doing segments. Fire tricks - no animals involved in those - clowns, juggling, knife throwing.”

“What does Ty Lee do again?” Sokka asks, turning back to Mai. “Zuko told me, but that was before we got introduced to you and I was too nervous to pay attention.”

“She’s a contortionist,” Zuko repeats, tucking a lock of hair behind Sokka’s ear and revelling in the thrill that goes through him at his ability to do so. “And she does the trapeze.”

“She’s also their unofficial ‘bear tamer,’” Mai sighs, closing the program and tucking it away. Zuko has seen the box she keeps with every single program from every show Ty Lee has ever been in since the day they met. “That just means the bear they’ve rescued loves her and will follow her around like a duckling. The audience thinks it’s cute.”

“Do you disagree?” Zuko teases, causing Sokka to snicker into his perfectly tailored sleeve. Mai just glares in response and then hushes them as the lamps are put out and the theatre is plunged into darkness. 

The performance is a blast for them all. 

The clowns are funny enough that even Sokka, with his terrible and niche sense of humor, laughs. The fire eaters and knife throwers wow and excite the audience, dousing flames on their tongues and successfully throwing blades blind-folded at their peers. Ty Lee flips through the air with a partner on wooden swings over 50 feet in the air, then does a segment on her own. She uses a red swath of cloth hung from hidden rafters and climbs up just using her body wrapped in the fabric. She swings and soars over the audience, then sprays a wave of glitter on her last go round. Even so high up and away from the blast zone, Zuko still manages to get glitter in his hair. 

Later, after a troupe of people have created structures with their bodies, a duo of men have tossed each other around, and a woman has lifted far more weight than Zuko thought a human could take, Ty Lee returns. She and another performer twist their bodies into tiny spaces and odd shapes, making Zuko’s skin crawl. 

“I bet that’s useful at home,” Sokka jokes to Mai. She gives him a sharp smile, eyes gleaming. 

“You have no idea,” she responds. 

Still, it’s Zuko’s least favorite of Ty Lee’s acts. There’s something off in the way she squeezes into small boxes and wiggles out from sheer corners. The way her bones twist and shift under her skin has always freaked him out. It reminds him of a mouse, squirming its way through any hole that its head can fit into. 

At the end, a few performers take out their rescued animals and parade them around to wave at the crowd. Ty Lee comes on last with the bear, that noses her until she eventually agrees to sit on its back. It romps around the stage cheerfully with Ty Lee giggling on its haunches. Zuko can feel the love emanating from Mai. 

The show wraps up and everyone comes out to take their bows. Amidst the applause, Zuko sees Sokka frowning. Zuko nudges him. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Where’s the fireworks?” Sokka asks. Zuko smiles. 

“Don’t you wonder why no one has left even though the show is over?” Zuko asks. Sokka looks down at the crowd, still in their seats. A few of them have craned their necks up and are waiting expectantly. “Look up.”

Just as Sokka tips his head back, the mechanism in the roof whirrs to life. The large dome over their head starts to pull back until half of the roof is gone, exposing the night sky. And that’s when the fireworks start. Sokka’s gasp is audible even over the cheering of the audience. The fireworks come in a myriad of colors, all painting the blue canvas of the night. The stars mix in with the fiery lights as they burst above their heads. Zuko has seen it a few times already, so he looks over to Sokka and isn’t disappointed. 

Sokka’s eyes are so wide, the smile on his face frozen there as he gapes above him. The fireworks reflect in his eyes. He’s squeezing Zuko’s hand so tightly in excitement. 

“Did you see the dome slide open, Zuko?” Sokka babbles, eyes fixated on the illuminated sky. “It was seamless! The mechanics of that must be… I don’t know, something else. And the fireworks! Look at that - Zuko it’s…!” And he bursts out into delighted laughter. Zuko wants this forever. He wants Sokka to be happy like this for the rest of their lives. 

Zuko tugs Sokka’s hand until the young man looks at him and then leans in to kiss him. Under the light of the fireworks casting shadows over their faces, there is no place that Zuko would rather be. 

* * *

It doesn’t last. Nothing with them ever does, Zuko thinks. 

A little over a month into their stay, Mai begs them to attend one of her dinners with the merchant’s guild. 

“There’s going to be military people there, and you  _ know _ I can’t deal with them, Zuko. I’ve been letting you stay here as a favor. Do this as a favor for me,” Mai says bluntly over dinner one night. 

It’s the worst. Though balancing missing his sister and their friends, Zuko has been enjoying lazing about with Sokka, taking him around the city, pretending that they’re just a regular young couple, exploring themselves and the world together. Not even General Bumi has bothered him, and the General had been up Zuko’s ass the last time Zuko had worked with him. He assumes everything is going well and that’s why Bumi has let him be, maybe even at the behest of his uncle. And now, this. 

“I mean…” Zuko trails off, staring at the roast on his plate. He looks up and Sokka looks pained. They share a look. “Who’s going to be there?” Zuko asks. Maybe they’re getting complacent and this will keep them on their toes. It’s just a dinner. Even if someone unexpected shows up, they can’t do anything too publicly. 

“The guild, obviously,” Mai says on a sigh. “General Bumi and his command staff. A few representatives from Central Command. They always come. But not your dad - he always announces himself,” she adds, voice a tad softer. Of course, she would think Zuko’s hesitance would come from having to come face to face with his father. If only she knew. 

“I’ll be there too!” Ty Lee chimes in from her seat at Mai’s side. “We can talk about everyone’s poor sense of fashion,” she says to Sokka, like a conspirator on the killing room floor. 

“I figure they’ll talk to you instead of me,” Mai continues. “And then get bored and see that I’m busy and have no time for them, and so  _ shut up _ .” She looks at him expectantly. “Just go in your uniform, Sokka can go in a suit, and we’ll call it a day.” Zuko winces at that. “What?” she snaps.

“I… don’t actually have a uniform,” Zuko admits. Sokka snorts into his bite of potato and tries to cover it up with a cough. Ty Lee plays along, smacking him on the back. 

Mai drops her head into her hands. “Why are you such a disaster?” Before he can answer, she cuts in with, “Go to Western Command and request one. They’ll give you something temporary to wear. You need to be in uniform at these things - or else  _ I’ll _ look bad having you as my guest.”

“I didnt even agree to go,” Zuko sulks as Ty Lee titters with laughter and Sokka gives him a wide grin. 

“Of course you’re going,” Mai says, returning to her food. 

“Right,” Zuko concedes with a sigh. “Of course I’m going.”

He goes into town the next day, leaving Sokka rumpled in bed, working on a new schematic for Zuko’s leg. Sokka had been toying with a self-adjustable leg, one that Zuko could extend himself as he grew. In the past month, Zuko had noticed he’d gained a full four inches in height - more than he’s grown altogether in the 6 years since he and Azula committed the Taboo. He wonders if it’s because Azula isn’t with him, if having her close strengthens their bond and stunts his growth as her soul mixes with his in the Doorway. He wonders if she’s blacked out with him so far from her, if she’s had trouble waking up. He talks to Sokka in the dead of night, in the darkness, where Sokka can’t see his tears of fear, but can feel them dripping on his skin. It helps, to have someone who loves him, someone to listen, someone who understands and holds those fears to the same importance as Zuko.  _ Sokka _ helps. 

Zuko loves him so fiercely it hurts sometimes. 

Western Command is still mostly empty when Zuko gets there. He’d called in the evening and they’d asked him to come in for his measurements to be taken and a suitable uniform to be found. It’s such a pain; as a state alchemist, he holds the military rank of a major and his uniform has to reflect both his alchemical and martial status. They may have to adjust one of their uniforms if they can’t find one that fits, and that’ll mean Zuko is going to spend the entire morning and afternoon being stabbed with little needles as they hem everything. 

The receptionist on duty today checks him in and leads him to the second floor where their quartermaster is sitting with a tailor. Both women look him up and down and he almost wants to call out to the receptionist not to leave him alone, but the man in question scurries away as soon as the opportunity presents itself. 

“Fullmetal Alchemist,” the quartermaster greets. “I’m Shima. This is Rengei. She’ll be taking your measurements and finding a uniform suitable to your rank and title. Please, come closer so we can begin.” 

While he has grown tall enough that they can find something for him that matches in length, his automail presents the next problem, prompting Rengei to cuss vividly under her breath as she figures out the sleeve and pant leg she’ll have to let out in order for the fabric to fit comfortably around Zuko’s appendages. It’s boring work, but he stands there and takes it, not even bothering to wince when the pins prick into his skin. 

“I’ll get this adjusted, and then we’ll try it on again,” Rengei says, staring at the fabric. “Quartermaster Shima, if you could find the appropriate boots so we can see if any adjustments around the pant hems need to be made?” 

“Certainly,” Shima says, and leads the tailor out of the room. 

“Hey, wait!” Zuko calls out to them. “Do I just…” He sighs. “Wait?”

“Fullmetal!”

Zuko screams. Later, he’ll tell Mai it was a yelp, but Sokka will know he’s fibbing just a bit. 

“Don’t scream, it’s just me,” General Bumi says with snorting laughter, peeking out from behind a rack lined with woolen uniforms. 

Zuko’s heart is racing, his chest heaving, but the only thing he can think to say is, “How long were you hiding in there?”

“Oh, just a couple of hours,” General Bumi says, not coming all the way out of the rack, but rather poking his head out between the uniforms. “C’mere kid.” Zuko obeys. 

“Sir, why are we-”

“Don’t know who we can trust in this day and age,” Bumi says, cutting him off. “I got in touch with Pakku and Iroh. We’re all set to attack Central Command on the date you indicated in the tile. Our weapons will be delivered to your family’s old estate where Western forces will be hiding, waiting for Eastern and Northern forces to meet us up on the day of.” Zuko’s eyes widen. “Apologies for the secrecy, but I suspected something was up with that boy of yours, so I thought a one on one would be better.”

“You couldn’t just… summon me?” Zuko wonders. 

“That would arouse suspicion! But, suggesting that you should be at the merchant’s guild dinner to one of the guild masters and having him present the idea to your little friend who runs the guild… you’d need to come here for a uniform, and that would give me the  _ perfect _ opportunity to get you alone without anyone suspecting we were in cahoots.” Bumi snorts again and Zuko can only stand in a bit of awe at how  _ smart _ that was. 

“Wait, you suggested this? I hate parties,” Zuko replies, glum. 

Bumi actually reaches out and pats him on the arm. “There, there. I’ll be attending as well. We can keep each other company!”

“Oh, wonderful,” Zuko mutters. 

“Well, the military side is set to go and waiting for any updates on that plan your sister is working on with the Nomad boy and your sister-in-law. Send me an update when you get it!” Bumi says, starting to sink back into the uniforms, the fabric consuming him. Zuko can hear footsteps in the hallway. 

“She’s not my sister-in-law!” Zuko whispers harshly. 

“Not yet she isn’t!” Bumi sing-songs back, disappearing. 

“Hey-” Zuko starts, but the door opens, Shima and Rengei returning. 

Quartermaster Shima frowns. “Are you alright, Fullmetal?” She’s holding a pair of shiny black boots in her hand. The leather is uncreased, as though they’ve never been worn. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Zuko sighs. “Let’s see if these fit.”

* * *

He can’t tell Sokka what happened, which is the worst. Sokka doesn’t even know the plan, and he won’t know until the actual day - the Promised Day, as they’ve been calling it. All he can do is collapse into him when he gets back to Mai’s and Ty Lee’s townhouse. Sokka takes out the uniform and fawns over it, laying it out to get the full effect and then hanging it up in the closet so it doesn’t wrinkle. 

“Ty Lee and I went out to buy a suit for me!” Sokka says. “She said this time, we should go with something a little lighter.” The suit he takes out is double-breasted and a heather grey with shiny charcoal colored buttons. Zuko can already picture how good Sokka will look in it, but not even the image is enough for him to dismiss Bumi’s audience with him this afternoon. The military coup was ready to go; they just needed Azula’s team to get them a signal that they were ready too. The eclipse was in three weeks. It seems like simultaneously too long to wait and not enough time to get done what they needed to get done. “Zuko!” Zuko focuses back on a frowning Sokka. 

“What?” Zuko asks, startled. 

“You zoned out,” Sokka says, hanging his suit in their closet. He throws himself on the bed beside Zuko and rolls into him until their bodies touch. “What’s up?”

“Just hoping Azula is okay,” he admits, running his fingers through Sokka’s hair. It’s down again, curling into his face. Zuko loves that. “And some other super secret stuff I can’t tell you.”

“This blows,” Sokka whines, pressing his face into Zuko’s neck. His breaths tickle but Zuko would rather that, than have Sokka move away. “I wish we could go somewhere Zhao couldn’t follow. Stupid Pride homunculus and his stupid shadow tentacles.”

“Wait,” Zuko says, sitting up. “Maybe we can.” He takes Sokka by the hand and drags him down three flights to the lowest level of the townhouse: the basement below ground. Mai and Ty Lee have it set up as a training room. Ty Lee practices her acts for work on the matted floor and Mai uses her Xingese knives on the dummies lined up on the far wall. Zuko and Sokka had taken to practicing down here during the week as well, Zuko with his automail and sword, Sokka with some knives borrowed from Mai. There’s only artificial light down here, no windows leading to outside. 

Zuko drags Sokka as far from the staircase entrance as possible, keeps the lights off and then sits in the dark until his eyes adjust a bit. He still can’t see much - the basement is underground and that really prevents the light from getting in. No light means no shadows, which means Pride has no eyes down here, not for right now. 

“He shouldn’t be able to see us if he can’t make a shadow,” Zuko explains. 

“Are you sure this is safe? I can just … not know, Zuko. I don’t want to put anyone in danger,” Sokka says. He gropes around until his hand lands on Zuko’s and then he clutches it tightly. 

“I don’t want to lie to you, not now. Not when we’ve been able to be as open as possible with each other while we’re here,” Zuko admits. He loves their open honesty and hates having to hide anything from Sokka, not now when he needs backup, maybe another mind to work through these issues with him. 

“Compromise?” Sokka suggests. “Tell me the basics - no details. Just in case. Just enough information so I’m not  _ in the dark _ ,” he chuckles. “Ha, in the dark. Get it? Cos we’re-”

“Oh my god,” Zuko mutters, cutting him off. “Our plans with our military allies are solidified,” Zuko says. He rolls his eyes, more for himself since Sokka can’t see his expressions in the dark. “We’re just waiting on Azula’s team to get back to us.”

“I haven’t heard anything from Katara or Aang,” Sokka tells him. But Zuko suspected as much. Sokka checks the mail every morning, since Azula knows the address. He asks Zuko to check the bank at least twice a week for any messages passed on from other banks around the country. There’s never anything for him. 

“Suki, Toph, and June haven’t sent anything ahead either,” Zuko adds. “If you were wondering. I thought maybe it might be easier for them, since they’re not nationals or connected to our military, but…” He shakes his head. “I’m just scared something is wrong. What if they’re not ready in time? What if something happened to them?”

“I think someone would be coming after us if they were caught,” Sokka points out. He squeezes Zuko’s hand, a welcome feeling in the dark. “I don’t think they would purposefully squeal on us, but it’s also not like our location is private right now. The military has to know you’re still in West City with me.”

“Yeah, no doubt about that,” Zuko says. “Someone is bound to have reported my presence with a civilian, at the very least.”

“Oh, I’m just a civilian now?” Sokka teases. He bumps shoulders with Zuko. “What do you want to do?”

“That’s why I wanted to tell you some of this - I don’t know!” Zuko says. “I’m not the plan guy, it’s not even my plan we’re operating on. I’m just the guy that said ‘okay’ to the plan and everyone thought that was enough.”

“As the usual plan guy, I don’t think it’s smart to go running off wherever they are,” Sokka admits. “Even if you left me behind, you said it yourself - someone is bound to have already reported that you’re still in West City. And that means someone is bound to report that you’ve left in a hurry. They might even follow you and you’ll lead them right to where our family is hiding.”

Zuko tries not to let how Sokka says  _ our family  _ affect him, but it does. He knows Sokka means their sisters and their friends, but he keeps thinking of the future they could have, the future he craves if they can just live through this whole ordeal. 

“You have a point. I don’t want to leave until they’re ready either. I have to have faith that they can pull the plan off.” Zuko says. 

“Whatever the plan may be,” Sokka mutters. “Look, I say we give them until the week of whatever deadline you’re running on.” Zuko gasps at that - he’d never told Sokka about the eclipse, just that they were working toward something.  _ Of course _ Sokka pieced together there was a special time frame. Zuko marvels at his intelligence but also swallows past a spike of fear. If Sokka could figure that out, then maybe Pride could too? 

“And if they don’t contact us?” Zuko asks. 

“Then we go looking. At that point, we’ll have to. The week will be a buffer of sorts, but it’ll definitely force us to go looking. Sound good?”

“Acceptable,” Zuko says. “But I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t say you would, sweetheart,” Sokka says, voice soft. Zuko feels the soft brush of lips against his cheek and sighs. “C’mon, let’s get out of here - or at least turn the light on and do some sparring. Get our minds off of this for a little bit. I’m nothing if not a good distraction, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, standing up with him in the dark. “At least that.”

* * *

The dinner is at the end of the week, and when the evening rolls around, something in Zuko is screaming for him to run away. He stares at himself in their bedroom mirror, the black wool of the uniform’s high collar making his skin itch. Since Zuko’s official post is with Eastern Command, his uniform is trimmed in the same yellow as his uncle’s would be were he present. It’ll distinguish him from Bumi and his green-trimmed, Western Command uniform. Mostly, it’ll single him out as an outsider to the region. He wishes the tailor, Rengei, hadn’t paid  _ that _ much attention to detail. 

“Ready to go?” Sokka asks behind him. Sokka looks lovely, his reflection arresting Zuko’s gaze in the mirror. The suit hugs his body, snug around those arms Zuko gets so caught up in looking at. The grey accentuates his eyes and makes Sokka appear all at once regal and warm. He leaves his hair down and has an obsidian earring in one earlobe. Zuko lets out a deep breath and turns around. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

They meet Mai and Ty Lee at the front door, both women in satin dresses with puffed up bustles at the back in black and pink, respectively. Mai adjusts the black satin and lace bonnet on her head and nods to the door. There’s an automobile waiting from them all at the bottom of the front steps, the engine sputtering in the front, the exhaust pipe belching fumes in the back.  _ That can’t be good for the air quality _ , Zuko thinks as he gives Sokka a hand in. Sokka still glances around the automobile in wonder, so used to using a horse and cart to get anywhere. 

“There will be a short period of lounging, followed by the formal dinner which will last two hours, and a short cocktail hour after it,” Mai says, running through the night again as the driver takes them to the guild’s hall. “Mingle with the military buffs, make sure General Bumi isn’t as embarrassing as possible, and I’ll call it even.”

“Oh, is that all?” Sokka mutters. “Will there be steak, at least?”

“The best in West City,” Ty Lee exclaims, eyes wide as saucers. Zuko remembers she loves meat just as much as Sokka does. 

“Then I think we’ll survive, right Zuko?” Sokka asks as the car slows. In truth, Mai and Ty Lee don’t live far from the guild hall, but it’s for propriety’s sake that they take a formal car to get there. Zuko only grunts and they all pile out, trailing into the hall. 

It’s made of the same grey stone as most buildings in West City, a basalt made to shine in the sun. Inside, warm woods panel the walls and are carved into staircases. The events hall is a floor above them and Mai leads the way with Ty Lee on her arm, head held high. Zuko remembers, again, that her father is an ambassador to Aerugo, that she was raised to hide her emotions and play the politics game - a respectful, thoughtful face to your enemies while hiding a knife behind your back, more often for your own defense than to stage an attack. 

“It’s nice in here,” Sokka says as they enter the dining room. All the china is delicate and designed with intricate shapes in gold and silver. Bottles of expensive sparkling wine line the table. The table is long and rectangular, able to seat all twenty guild members, military guests, guild administration, and everyone’s plus ones. Mai sits at the head with Ty Lee beside her, but Zuko and Sokka have been seated at the military end of the table, right across from General Bumi. At least they’ll have a familiar face. 

And Bumi’s is not the only one. 

“Zuko,” Sokka gasps beside him, hand tightening in his. Sokka gulps. “Is that…” He nods to the corner of the room where military members are mingling for the first part of the night and Zuko feels his stomach lurch. 

It’s  _ Gluttony _ . 

“Oh, fuck,” Zuko whispers. It’s one thing to suspect the homunculi knew they were in West City; it’s another to have one show up - particularly the one that wants to  _ eat him _ , while they’re at a formal dinner. 

“What are the chances of him leaving us alone?” Sokka wonders. It’s as though speaking of him summons him, because then Gluttony turns and locks eyes with Zuko. He smiles slowly, then flashes them a look at his tongue as he turns from his conversation mate. Zuko feels ill at the flash of red on porous flesh - he doesn’t have to see the ouroboros tattoo in detail to know it’s there. 

“He’s taunting us,” Zuko grits out. He wants to rush over there and demand to know why Gluttony is there. Does Father suspect their plan to take over Central Command, release the real Sozin, and stop his transmutation circle on the Promised Day? Or is Gluttony here as a threat, a warning in case they tried to recruit help? Zuko thinks it’s overkill if the second; he’s not going to risk Sokka’s life with Pride watching all the time. They don’t need another babysitter in Gluttony. 

“General Bumi,” Zuko says as the older man giggles and sits with a creak of his chair across from them. Zuko stands. “Sokka has some interesting designs for a firearm he wanted to discuss with you. If you could be so kind as to entertain his ideas while I make a quick stop at our host’s seat?”

“I do?” Sokka asks. At Zuko’s sharp look, he coughs and says, “Uh, yeah, I do. General Bumi, have you ever considered a scope on … a pistol?” Sokka says. Zuko doesn’t want to cringe in front of his boyfriend so he turns. Scope on a pistol? Well, he supposes he gave Sokka no prior warning. 

“Oh my,” Bumi says very seriously, steepling his fingers in front of his face. “Do tell me more, Master Imiq.”

“Right, so it’s, huh, like this…”

Zuko makes his way to the other side of the room where Mai is standing near Ty Lee and addressing a waiter. She wraps up her conversation and comes over to him, frowning. 

“We only just started the lounging period,” Mai says. “What are you doing? Go mingle.”

“Mai,” Zuko says, all the hair standing on his neck. Oh god, he bets Gluttony is  _ watching _ him. “This is important.” Maybe it’s the strain in his voice or maybe it’s the way he’s holding himself, like he’s ready to be attacked from behind, but her face hardens. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, discreetly pulling him into a corner with her. 

“That man across the room,” Zuko says. “He’s speaking to General Bumi’s top major and adjutant. Hair in a top knot, pouty lips, tan skin, may be looking over here or at Sokka. Hungry eyes.” He watches Mai’s brown eyed gaze flick to the back, seeking him out. She stops when she sees him, eyes widening a fraction. “Is that or is that not your uncle?”

“On my mother’s side,” Mai confirms. Then, “Apparently.” Zuko tenses. What the fuck does that mean?

“What do you mean  _ apparently?” _ he grits out. “Either he’s your uncle or he isn’t!”

“My mother has only mentioned he was … adopted into the family at some point when she was a teenager. He’s always been older than her, and by a bit. You know my mother is the youngest of three - including him. She said…'' Mai trails off, brow furrowing in consternation. 

“She said what?” Zuko asks. He peeks over his shoulder. Sokka seems to be deep in a conversation with General Bumi and Ty Lee is talking to several guild members and their spouses. But Gluttony is staring right at him, still smiling. 

“She said that it was your father, before he was Fuhrer, who actually convinced my grandfather to adopt him into the family and allow him to use our surname,” Mai says slowly, as though only just realizing how odd that was. “I don’t think I know anything else about him, besides the fact that he’s a warden at the prison in South City.”

_ South City _ , Zuko thinks with sinking dread,  _ where Azula and the others are trying to break out the real Sozin _ . 

“Zuko, what’s going on? Are we in danger?” Mai asks, voice low and harsh. 

“I don’t know,” Zuko admits, trying not to let the anger in his voice show. If Gluttony is here to rub it in his face that his sister is captured  _ or worse _ Zuko is going to do more than just cause a scene. “We’ll see. If we’re in any danger, he’ll make the first move.”

“Who, my  _ uncle?” _ Mai asks, a bit incredulous. “Not in front of this many people.”

“Then if I go to the bathroom and never come back, you’ll know I’m dead in a stall with my head drowned in a toilet,” Zuko says dryly. “Just… don’t act like anything is wrong, alright? I need to know what he wants. I’ll find out.”

“He’s involved,” Mai says, gripping his arm. “In whatever is happening in Central.” Zuko looks at her and bites his lip hard. “Zuko.”

“I can’t tell you, Mai. Not right now. Please trust me,” Zuko says. He looks at her hand. “And maybe unhand me?” She releases his arm abruptly, as though she hadn’t noticed how hard she was holding on. 

“Be careful,” she hisses, walking away. “And don’t ruin my dinner.”

If only it were that simple. 

* * *

Bumi notices Gluttony’s staring. 

They’re on the last course of their meal when the General brings it up, delicately dabbing at his mouth with a linen napkin and completely missing the glob of gravy on his chin. Sokka mutters a sound of disgust under his breath, right beside Zuko’s ear. 

“So, why has the Warden of the South City Maximum Security Prison been staring you and your fiancé down all night, Fullmetal?” Bumi snorts. 

Zuko and Sokka both choke on their food at Bumi’s use of  _ fiancé. _

“He’s  _ not _ my  _ fiancé!” _ Zuko growls, voice low to avoid any more unwanted attention. Having Gluttony stare at them with a threat in his eyes? Zuko is used to that by now. Having the rest of the military and guild guests looking over because he’s gotten into a yelling match with General Bumi? Zuko is  _ not _ about to garner that kind of attention. Everyone knows Bumi is a little off; it’ll be a mark against Zuko, not Bumi. 

“Not your fiancé  _ yet,” _ Bumi corrects and puts down his napkin, still sniggering. Zuko forces himself not to look at the gravy smudge on Bumi’s chin. 

“Wow, okay,” Sokka mutters, taking a long draught from his wine glass. “Why did Mai seat us in front of him?”

“I’m guessing it was a personal request?” Zuko responds, though it’s more a question to the general. 

“Of course it was!” Bumi confirms. “My question still stands, Fullmetal.”

“... you noticed the staring,” Zuko mutters. He peeks out the corner of his good eye and catches sight of Gluttony’s gaze, still trained on them, barely responding to the guests around him. 

“I was surprised to see him here in the first place,” Bumi says, puttering around with his cutlery and plates to mask the seriousness of their conversation. “I’ve never seen him this far west, since he’s stationed out of Southern Command as the prison warden. What did you two do?”

“Nothing,” Zuko mutters. 

“No, seriously, we’ve been keeping our heads down out here,” Sokka insists at Bumi’s snort. “Zuko, tell him! We go to museums and watch Ty Lee’s performances. We are  _ not  _ involved in whatever is going on… elsewhere.” 

Bumi’s eyes alight. “You think your team…” He trails off. 

“I think,” Zuko says, “that Gluttony suspects us of something we had no hand in and is coming to check up on us.” He rubs his eyes, falling silent as a server comes and clears their plates. The cocktail hour is about to begin. Once the server is gone, Zuko continues. “Which makes no sense, because we already  _ have _ someone watching us.”

“Oh, do you?” Bumi asks, gaze falling on Sokka. Sokka groans. 

“Wow, is it that obvious that it’s me?” Sokka whines. A few guests look over at the ruckus he’s making but Zuko just glares and they go back to their polite conversation as servers bring out trays of fruity cocktails and roll out kegs of the best stouts from Aerugo.

“Fullmetal seems far more worried about you than himself - though, that could be the love in his eyes,” Bumi tases, chortling. “However, I suspect it isn’t  _ just _ that.”

“You and your suspicions,” Zuko sighs. People are starting to get up from the table, ready to mingle again. He’s heard talk of taxes and imports versus exports, what the spring season is bringing in and what the city will ship out. He’s heard of marriages being planned and proposals being declined, of alliances forming and breaking. It sounds closer to a military strategy table than a guild dinner, but then, Zuko surmises that’s why all the military guests have been invited as well. Who better to coach you through your own maneuvers than someone who does it for a living and can get a little extra cash on the side from a merchant for weighing in on what passes to take to ship their goods and how to get rid of competition? 

“My suspicions keep me alive,” Bumi sniffs, standing up as well. Sokka frowns and follows suit, dragging Zuko up with him. “And they’re telling me we can get some information from the Warden if I mingle and leave you two open as bait.”

“As bait?!” Sokka hisses in a whisper . 

“Of course,” Zuko replies, rolling his eyes. “Our lives being in danger is just a little bump that shouldn’t stop us, isn’t it?” 

“I won’t let the scary man hurt you,” Bumi says with a wink before walking off, calling to Ty Lee and snagging a mug of Aerugian stout on the way. 

“He has no fucking idea,” Sokka growls, slitting his eyes at Bumi’s retreating back. “He has  _ no idea- _ ”

“And he can’t know,” Zuko says, cutting Sokka off. He pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to Sokka. Sokka’s whole face is scrunched up, staring at Bumi’s retreating back. “Hey,” Zuko says softly. Sokka looks at him, eyes troubled, but Zuko just places his hands on Sokka’s shoulders and squeezes gently. “There’s too many people for him to try anything without blowing his own cover. We’ll be okay.”

“For now. It’s after the party that I’m worried about,” Sokka sighs. But then he smiles, small and special, just for Zuko. He winks. “Maybe the General will come through and make sure the scary man doesn’t get us huh?” Sokka says, just as Zuko spies Gluttony coming toward them. Sokka takes Zuko’s hand in his and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his metal fingers. With uncanny timing, Sokka turns to face Gluttony right as he gets close enough to speak to them, his hand still in Zuko’s. Sokka’s eyebrows go up and he gives Gluttony an up-down sweep of his eyes, twisting his mouth in distaste, evidently unimpressed. 

Zuko will admit - it’s kind of hot. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Sokka intones, gently tugging Zuko against his side so he can slip an arm around his waist, feigning ease. It makes Zuko feel better. He takes a deep breath and looks into Gluttony’s face. There’s disgust in the homunculus’ eyes - but there’s unease as well. What the hell is going on?

“Just dropping in, you could say,” Gluttony says, eyes zoning in on Zuko. “Behaving, Fullmetal?”

Zuko swallows and gestures around them. “We’ve been keeping our noses clean, like we promised your Father.”

“Have you?” Gluttony says, staring him down. “Interesting. There’s word on the wind that you’ve been less than obedient. It wouldn’t be good for you, if that were true. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Zuko’s mind reels in confusion. What is Gluttony talking about? He and Sokka have purposely been as quiet as mice. Who’s told Gluttony otherwise? Zuko slips a hand into one of Sokka’s and squeezes, refusing to break Gluttony’s gaze. “And where seems to be the rest of your rag-tag rabble?” Gluttony adds, aiming for casual, but something in his voice is tight.

It takes only a moment for Gluttony to realize his mistake, but it’s already been done. If Gluttony is asking about the rest of their group, then that means  _ he doesn’t know where they are _ . And if he’s looking for them here, someone must have either tipped him off to where some of the group was  _ or _ mislead him. Zuko files that away for later, another mystery to unravel. For now, he needs to see if he can get anything else from Gluttony. It seems General Bumi had been right; maybe they  _ can _ get some information tonight.

“I don’t keep my sister or our friends on a leash,” Zuko says, frowning, trying to read Gluttony’s face. The homunculus is twitching from his eyes to his fingertips. “And your intel is wrong - we’re all quiet up here.”

“Why did you even come up here, anyway? You wasted your time. Ask around. We’ve been keeping to ourselves. Besides, Pride is watching us, isn’t he?” Sokka quips with a chuckle. 

Gluttony goes still, eyes widening. He doesn’t respond. 

“...isn’t he?” Zuko insists, stomach knotting. Has something happened to Pride? Or perhaps he had other duties to attend to that exceeded in importance in comparison to Sokka? 

“Of course he is,” Gluttony scoffs, but when Zuko looks closely, the homunculus has a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. “Don’t try anything, Fullmetal. We’ve got eyes on you; remember that.” 

“Right,” Zuko mutters, unconvinced. Gluttony doesn’t need to know that. “Well, if you need anything, I’m sure you know where to find us.”

“Hmm,” Gluttony grunts. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Fullmetal, but I’m going to find out.” His grimy gaze slides over to Sokka and Zuko’s skin crawls. “We wouldn’t want  _ anything _ happening to Mr. Imiq, would we?”

Zuko feels his temper snap. He disregards all the eyes that can fall on them in that moment and stands in front of Sokka. 

“I'd  _ love  _ to see you  _ try _ ,” he snarls at Gluttony, loud enough that those in the immediate area around them fall quiet and turn to look at the three of them. Gluttony is painfully aware of the attention on them if his wide eyes darting from side to side are anything to go by. Zuko wonders if Father told the homunculus to keep a low profile. He doesn’t really care. No one is going to threaten Sokka like that, especially since they’ve been following all of Father’s wishes. 

“Uncle,” Mai says, walking up to them. Ty Lee is standing nervousing behind her, General Bumi bringing up the caboose. The conversation around them starts back up, a bit hushed, rumors and gossip already getting swapped over mugs of ale and across fancy glasses of wine. “I’m so glad I caught you before the night’s end - it’s  _ dreadful _ how propriety puts the military and merchants on opposite sides of the table.” Her brown eyes flash amber in the lowlight of the room. There’s a line of consternation between her brows - she may not know what’s going on, but she knows it’s not good.

“Mai,” Gluttony says, a false smile plastered to his face. “And your new wife, I hear.” He nods to Ty Lee whose face has gone impassive and expressionless. She stands stonily by Mai as the latter kisses her uncle’s cheek and starts up a benign conversation about the merchant guild rates. It’s enough for Bumi to spirit Zuko and Sokka away. Zuko is still seething at Gluttony’s audacity. 

“Something is wrong,” Zuko says the moment they break into the hall outside the dining room. He turns to Bumi. “He came looking for us. Someone must have tipped him off, but I don't know why. We haven’t done anything.”

“Could it be because you reported to me when you came into the city?” Bumi muses. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sokka pipes up, his hand still in Zuko’s. “You’re the commander out here and he’s military - isn’t it the responsible and  _ respectful _ thing to do to report in when you’re an outside officer coming into someone’s else’s jurisdiction?”

“Something’s going on,” Zuko repeats. “Did you see his reaction to Pride?” he says to Sokka, voice lowered. 

“You think… you think he’s  _ not _ watching us?” Sokka wonders, looking around as though Pride would materialize from the shadows of the hallway just at being mentioned. 

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to risk you to find out,” Zuko admits, taking Sokka’s face in his hands. Away from the crowds getting tipsy on good liquor in the dining room, he lets his fear show. Zuko presses their foreheads together. 

“I think now is as good a time as any for you boys to make your exit,” Bumi chimes, nodding to the staircase that leads them to the building’s lobby and main entrance. He’s looking at the doors back to the dining room, eyes calculating. Zuko has no idea what he's thinking, but honestly, at this point he doesn’t care. He’d rather go home and wait for Gluttony to get bored, leaving them in peace until the Promised Day. 

Zuko pulls back, nods, and takes Sokka by the hand. “Tell Mai we went home,” he says to Bumi, who nods and waves them off. Then Sokka tugs him to the stairs and they run down them together. Once outside, Zuko waves down a cabby, pays the fare, and hops into the cart, letting the clip-clop of the horses hooves calm him as they pull away from the building. They get back to Mai and Ty Lee’s townhouse soon after, and rush to their room, locking the door behind them. They know it won’t stop a homunculus on a mission, but it makes them feel better. 

“You should go to the bank tomorrow, see if Azula sent you word yet,” Sokka says, stripping out of his formal attire. His skin looks dusky in the moonlight coming in through the panes of glass in the doors that lead to the balcony. 

It’s a smart idea, and Zuko nods in agreement. He’s worried about their sisters and their friends. He’s worried about where Pride might have gone if the homunculus isn’t stalking Sokka anymore. He’s worried about what the  _ fuck _ Gluttony thinks they’ve been up to. 

“You’re freaking out, man,” Sokka murmurs, undoing the top buttons of Zuko’s borrowed uniform. “I can see it all over your face. One day at a time, right?”

Zuko lets Sokka help undress him. “Right. One day at a time.”

* * *

Sokka stays home and out of sight the next day as Zuko takes the long way to the bank in the middle of the afternoon. Most people are out working or enjoying the main square; there shouldn’t be many people around the bank at this time to witness him looking for messages left with his account. 

Zuko’s calculations are correct; there’s barely anyone at the bank when he enters. He sidles up to the teller farthest from the front door and gives her his state alchemist watch as identification, as well as his account number. The woman disappears to their records in the back, leaving Zuko to stare at his own reflection in the glass window that separates them. The bank is in a large building to house their huge vault below ground. It’s made of thick stone that blocks out the heat and Zuko shivers, looking up at the high ceilings, craving the slivers of sun that come in from the small, blocky windows way up high. 

“Here’s your current account balance, sir,” the woman says, scaring the daylights out of Zuko. She hands him a slip through the slit at the bottom of the glass. Then she clears her throat. “You also have a message from your primary bank branch in East City,” she says, looking to the side as she slides that to him as well. She goes back to her seat, trying not to make it obvious that she’s peeking at Zuko from the corner of her eye, furtively looking for his reaction to the missive. Zuko looks at the slip of paper and blanches. 

There’s a long missive that basically tells him his account was  _ overdrawn _ . No wonder the teller wanted to see his reaction. 

Zuko looks at his bank statement and frowns, though. He has  _ plenty  _ of funds, and any overdraft should have been compensated for from his latest paystub from his weekly military stipend that gets deposited directly into his account. He looks at the missive from Eastern Bank again. At the very bottom of the statement, is a footnote:  _ forwarded from North City Branch.  _ That made no sense. If this were a  _ real _ overdraft statement, it would have originated from his home branch in East City, not be  _ forwarded _ from it. 

Zuko’s eyes widen in understanding.  _ Azula _ . 

“Thank you!” he tells the teller and rushes out with his papers stuffed under his bright red coat. He keeps his head down and rushes across the square, trying to make his path harder to follow should anyone be tailing him. He’s buzzing with anticipation by the time he gets back to the townhouse, barging in and startling Ty Lee in the kitchen where she’s fixing them all lunch with Sokka. 

Zuko ignores them and makes his way up to the third floor guest room where he and Sokka are staying. He flings himself to the desk, shoving away Sokka’s tools and the schematic he must have been editing. Then Zuko takes out the bank missive, smooths it out, and snags one of Sokka’s pencils. 

When they were children, he and Azula had created a cipher to use in case either of them ever needed to send messages to each other in secret, should they be separated. Zuko uses it now, jotting down the phrase they use as the cipher key at the top of the missive, slowly going through the missive and circling letters, and matching them to the cipher. It must have taken Azula all day to come up with a missive that could be seen as an overdraft statement to the general onlooker, to be passed over without thought  _ and _ still contain the message she needed Zuko to know. She must have sent it up from the South City Branch of the bank, to the North Branch with instructions to pass through the East Branch before ending in West City’s Branch. To cover its origins by the time it got where it needed to go. To protect the message. But that meant it would take longer to get to Zuko. 

He writes out the final line to the message and feels the blood rush from his face. 

_ Ran into Pride going south. Imprisoned him outside refugee town - Sokka safe for now. Gluttony is South Prison Warden. Leading him to you & Sokka to get him out of South. JJ & P helped get Sozin. Meet in Resembool for sheep festival. RUN. Message will get there late. Gluttony will know about Pride and Sozin escape and think it was YOU.  _

Her estimated date for the message’s arrival was a whole  _ day  _ late. 

Which meant Gluttony could have already been alerted to Sozin’s escape from the Southern Prison by now and actively be looking for Zuko. 

“God  _ damn it _ , Azula,” Zuko swears, rushing around the room, packing his bag. He understood why she sent Gluttony after him and Sokka - it would be easier to break the original Sozin out of the prison  _ without _ Gluttony around to snoop and catch them at it. Using Zuko and Sokka as a decoy to draw him away, all the way in West City, was a smart strategy. But by virtue of trying to cover her tracks, it put Zuko and Sokka in danger. And Mai and Ty Lee. 

Oh god,  _ Mai and Ty Lee _ . 

“Hey, you ran up here pretty quick,” Sokka says, not bothering to announce himself as he comes in. “Lunch is read - what are you doing?” Zuko turns to find Sokka in one of Ty Lee’s frilly aprons, frowning. 

“Gluttony is headed this way,” Zuko says, stuffing his things in a bag. Sokka blanches. 

_ “What?” _ he yelps. 

“And Azula imprisoned Pride, somehow,” Zuko continues, fastening his bag tightly. “I’d love to know what that means, but for now I can speak freely in front of you. Which is to say: we have to leave.”

“Right  _ now? _ ” Sokka yelps. 

“Yes, right now!” Zuko yelps back. “Pack your shit!” 

Sokka doesn’t even hesitate; he dashes around the room, packing up his tools, stowing his clothes in his rucksack, and shouldering his rifle bag, pistols safely tucked into the toolbag. He looks longingly at their good clothes in the closet. 

“Goodbye nice things. This is why we can’t have you,” Sokka laments dramatically. Zuko rolls his eyes. 

“When this is over, we can come back. I promise.” Zuko pauses. “As long as Mai and Ty Lee don’t hate us.”

“Hate you for what?” 

Zuko turns to find Mai standing in the doorway in one of her house dresses made of linen and died a deep burgundy, Ty Lee standing behind her in a pink dress with a puff skirt. Her apron matches Sokka’s, which he hasn’t bothered to take off. 

“I know it’s sudden and unexpected,” Zuko says, “but it seems like our business has finally caught up to us. We need to leave  _ now _ , Mai, so that you two don’t get hurt.”

“Does this have to do with the  _ scene _ you caused with my uncle last night?” Mai asks, hands braced on her hips. 

“Technically, yes,” Zuko admits, hating that she’s calling it a  _ scene _ when at most, Zuko would classify that as a tiff. If even. “Now I know why he was there: he thinks Sokka and I did something -”

“Which we didn’t!” Sokka throws in. “Please. We need to leave. If he comes here, you can honestly tell him we left and that you don't know where we went.”

“Does he want to hurt you?” Ty Lee asks, a deep frown marring her face. It’s unsettling to Zuko, who’s so used to seeing her smile constantly. 

Zuko hesitates in his response.

The whole townhouse  _ shakes _ . 

Sokka is the only one who falls over, crashing into Zuko. The others keep their footing and share wide-eyed looks of shock. Mai opens her mouth to say  _ something _ when the townhouse shakes  _ again _ , and Sokka trips, crashing both Zuko and himself into the doorway. It throws Mai off balance and Ty Lee steadies her with a sure hand on her waist. 

“What the  _ hell _ is that?” Mai yells. 

“An earthquake?” Ty Lee wonders. Zuko doesn’t think so. 

“Fullmetal!” they all hear from outside. Zuko looks to Sokka trying not to panic. He knows that voice. 

_ Gluttony _ . 

Zuko races to the balcony doors and flings them open, running out onto the terrace. Sure enough, there’s Gluttony at the foot of Mai and Ty Lee’s stairs. He’s staring up at them, his large mouth pulled into a grotesque smile that stretches the skin of his face far too tight. Zuko knows how wide that mouth can get. It makes him sick to look at. 

“Oh, you  _ are _ home!” Gluttony says. He flags someone on the side of the townhouse and the whole place shudders again. 

“Your  _ niece _ is in here!” Zuko yells, even though he knows it doesn’t matter to the homunculus. Shouldn’t appearances matter at least?

“You and I both know there’s nothing tying me to that young woman  _ or _ her family,” Gluttony yells up. It’s the afternoon, so everyone is back at work or all the way in the town square. They live in a quiet part of town, which means people will think there’s a natural disaster happening before they think their neighbors are in trouble. 

“What do you want, Gluttony?” Zuko yells. Sokka runs up to his side, taking Zuko’s hand in his.

“Zuko,” Sokka mutters in his ear, “I looked out the bathroom window - there’s a  _ giant _ man out there with the ouroboros on his forehead ramming the townhouse. Mai and Ty Lee ran into the basement. They’re waiting for us there.”  _ Shit _ , Zuko thinks. That sounds like  _ Sloth _ . Of course Father had managed to retrieve the homunculus from outside of Briggs. He hopes Pakku’s men weren’t affected by  _ that _ particular search and recover mission. 

“Where’s Pride?” Gluttony snarls and Zuko blanches. Pride is  _ missing? _ What the  _ fuck  _ did Azula do? “Where’s Pride and Sozin? We know you have them stashed away somewhere! We’ll end you right here, right now, sacrifices be damned!” Gluttony threatens, because, Zuko realizes, he has nothing else to threaten them with. June is on their side. Pride is gone and can’t hurt Sokka. The only thing Gluttony can do is the immediate, which is to say, hurt them, Mai and Ty Lee. 

This, Zuko can deal with. 

Zuko claps his hands together to trigger an alchemical reaction and then snaps, transmuting the molecules in the air to fire. He launches the ball of flame right at Gluttony’s face, the homunculus screeching and calling for Sloth. Zuko turns and tackles Sokka to the floor of their room just as Sloth rams the townhouse again and the beams above their head start to shudder and drop dust. The window in the bathroom bursts inward with the force of the hit from outside, and they’re showered in a spray of glass shards. Zuko shields their heads with his automail arm. 

“When I say go, run to the stairs,” Zuko says, his face inches from Sokka’s where they’ve landed beside the bed. The townhouse shudders again, and Zuko can just barely hear Gluttony yelling outside, threatening to come in and devour them. “Ready?” Zuko says. In another moment, the townhouse should stabilize enough for them to make a run for it down the stairs. Sokka nods. “Go!” Zuko yells, rolling off Sokka and springing to his feet. Sokka is right behind him as they trip down the stairs, clutching the walls and railing. They run all the way down to the pitch dark of the basement. 

“Zuko?” he hears to his left and even as the place shudders again, something crashing above their heads, he turns and can barely make out a shape in the dark. 

“Mai!” he calls. Zuko claps and snaps again, holding a ball of flame to illuminate the way. Mai and Ty Lee are under one of the weapons tables, pushed up against the wall. He and Sokka run over. “I’m so sorry,” Zuko immediately apologizes. “I never thought they’d attack with you two here.”

“Seems they’re throwing all pretenses out the window, huh?” Sokka mutters. He’d made sure to grab both their travel bags and weapons for the run down the stairs. Mai and Ty Lee each have a bag by their feet as well. Zuko frowns. 

“You had time to grab bags?”

“We always have one stashed - just in case,” Mai says, waving him off. That’s… really, really weird. “What do we do now?”

“They’re bound to come in here,” Sokka agrees. “And that won’t bode well for any of us. Those things… they don’t die,” he tells the ladies. Mai sighs, deep and long-suffering. Ty Lee’s face hardens into a frown. 

Zuko knows what he has to do, he just isn’t too fond of doing it. Still, he sucks it up, pulls his big boy pants on, and turns to them all. His flame illuminates their faces and for a moment, they all look so young and afraid, bags under everyone’s eyes which are turned up to above their heads, where they’ll hear thudding footsteps searching for them any second now. 

“I’ll go out there and lead them away,” Zuko says. 

“What?” Sokka snaps. 

“They’re looking for me. They think I have the information they want. And despite what Gluttony says, I  _ know _ for a fact Father wants me as a sacrifice for whatever he has planned for the Promised Day,” he tells Sokka. “I’ll go out there, distract them-”

“What’s wrong with you?” Sokka yells, standing in front of Zuko to stop him from rushing out. “No way!”

“Look, if you stay here with Mai and Ty Lee, you’ll be safe. I can send someone after you once I reach Azula in Resembool and-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Sokka snaps, his face growing red and scrunching in fury. “Just  _ shut up _ , I’m not leaving you here.”

“Just stay here with Mai and Ty Lee, please!” Zuko groans. Why did Sokka have to be difficult? 

“That’s weird,” Mai intones, looking at her nails, even in the dark. “I was just about to say we’re coming to help you.”

“What?” Now it’s Zuko’s turn to snap. 

Beside Mai, Ty Lee claps her hands, a smile finally back on her face. “Oh, this is going to be great!”

“No, stop!” Zuko says even as Mai and Ty Lee pick up their packs, getting ready to move. “Hey!” Clearly no one is listening to him. “Why doesn’t anyone respect my authority?” Zuko grouses. He’s a  _ state alchemist _ and he can’t even get a guild master, a carnie, and an automail mechanic to listen to him. 

To his left, Sokka snorts, “What authority? No, seriously - since when do  _ you _ have authority?” Zuko is really questioning his taste in romantic partners right about now. 

“New question - how do we get out of here without getting killed?” Zuko says, in favor of ignoring Sokka’s comment and keeping some of his own dignity intact. 

“Oh wait!” Ty Lee says, snapping her fingers. Her face brightens in the light of Zuko’s fire. “There are tunnels that run under West City for sewage. We had to block one off when we first moved into the townhouse and finished the cellar. I think it was back here?” With unerring accuracy, Ty Lee moves through the dark to the other side of the cellar. Zuko shares a look of confusion with Sokka while Mai lets out another long sigh. The three of them fumble their way through the dark, flinching every time the townhouse shakes. There’s thudding above them and Zuko squeezes Sokka’s hand with his free one. It sounds like the homunculi made it into the townhouse. 

There’s a scraping and then they come upon Ty Lee crouched over a spot on the hardwood. Zuko lets the flame go out and crouches by her. Using his alchemy, he claps and puts his hands to the wood, forcing the boards to morph into vertical strips, exposing whatever is beneath. He transmutes flame again and sees a new problem. 

They can’t possibly fit through the opening. 

It has nothing to do with the opening he’s created with alchemy and everything to do with the way the entrance to the sewer was closed up during construction on the basement. It looks like it had been boarded up by metal from the  _ inside _ . It would take a few minutes for Zuko to create another opening big enough for all of them, and at this rate, it’ll be far louder than he wants it to be when everything blasts  _ inward _ . It could alert the homunculi to where they are. 

“Shit,” Sokka says, piecing together the problem. “That’s gonna get loud, isn’t it?” he asks Zuko. 

“Yeah,” Zuko admits. “Unless someone can get in through the hole that’s already there and pull off the metal from the inside of the tunnel with minimum noise…” He stops, laughing at how ridiculous that sounds. “Back to my pla-”

“No problem!” Ty Lee says, cutting him off. Zuko frowns. “Mai, can you hold my hair piece?” Ty Lee asks, pulling the pins from her hair. Mai takes them, then takes the top layer of Ty Lee’s dress as well when the young woman slides out of it and hands it to her. Zuko looks away. Ty Lee is just standing there in her underdress, assessing the small opening. 

Then, she cracks her neck and her bones  _ shift. _

Ty Lee sticks her face into the hole and pokes her head through - the only thing that should fit through a hole that size. But then, she pushes and her shoulders almost collapse into her, her ribs doing the same, her pelvis twisting as she continues moving through the hole until her hands find purchase on something on the other side and she pulls the rest of her body through. Zuko turns to Sokka and finds his face completely ashen. 

_ “What the fuck, Zuko, what the actual fuck,” _ Sokka whispers. There’s a terrifying roar up above them and Zuko snaps out of his stupor. He looks over to Mai who is completely unsurprised, as though watching her wife’s bones bend like rubber was  _ normal _ . She stuffs Ty Lee’s clothes and hair pins down the hole then steps back. 

“Zuko, could you shine some light down here?” Ty Lee’s cheery voice calls up. Zuko sticks the hand holding the ball of flame through the hole. “Oh, thank you!” A few moments later something brown wraps around the metal plates and  _ yanks _ them with surprising force. They come loose with minimal noise and whatever the brown, ropy thing is holds them so they don’t hit the ground with a clang. The hole opens up enough that the rest of them can jump down. Zuko goes first and catches Mai when Sokka ushers her down. Sokka jumps down last and gives Zuko a boost up, so he can pull down the floor boards to cover the hole. 

Once he’s safely back on the ground, Zuko turns to his friends. Mai is fixing Ty Lee’s hair as Ty Lee smooths her dress down and adjusts the pack on her back. Sokka nudges him and points to them. He clearly wants Zuko to ask what the  _ hell _ had just happened. Because he knew Ty Lee was flexible but this is something else altogether. 

“What… can I ask - what the  _ hell _ was that?” Zuko says, voice cracking. 

Mai stops her fussing and shoots him a venomous look, eyes slit and mouth a grim slash on her face. But Ty Lee sighs and hip-checks her with a wink. She turns her eyes on Zuko and Sokka and in the light of his flame, Zuko sees them  _ shine _ . Like an animal’s.

“Well, I guess I can mention now. I’m a chimera,” Ty Lee says with her trademark, sunny grin. Zuko can’t control the widening of his eyes or Sokka’s choking beside him. He simply reaches around and pounds his lover on the back while staring with his ever widening eyes at his friend. 

“A… chimera,” Zuko says, rubbing his eyes. “Another one,” he mutters. “Right,” he says. “What um, animal?”

“You believe me?” she asks in surprise. 

“He’d better,” Mai mutters beside her. 

“You’re not the first chimera I’ve run into.” Sokka gives Zuko a questioning look. “Dublith, when Azula and I first met June. She had a squad of chimera - government rejects.”

“Just like me and my sisters!” Ty Lee says. Something whips around behind her. Zuko follows it with his ball of flame and takes a step back - there’s a fuzzy, brown  _ tail _ . That must have been what Ty Lee used to pull down the metal sheets closing up the hole. “Ooops! Sorry, it flicks around a bit when I’m nervous and it’s unbound. I’m part mouse.”

“Is that why your bones are so  _ soft?” _ Sokka asks. He claps both hands over his mouth. “Ooops, sorry if that was rude. Just… wondering.”

“That  _ is  _ why!” Ty Lee says with glee. “You’re not… scared of me? I’m pretty strong as a chimera, even though mice usually aren’t. I can get into small spaces and bend easily - my bones are just like a rodent’s. As long as I can fit my head into a space, the rest of my body can follow and I can collapse my bones.”

“Wow,” Zuko says. There’s not much else he can say. “Wait, you and your sisters?”

“They escaped from a government facility and joined the circus,” Mai explains. She nods down the tunnel. “Come on. We should start moving. They’ll realize we aren’t in the townhouse soon and start looking to see how we got out.”

“So you’ve been living as a fugitive?” Sokka asks, walking on Ty Lee’s other side. Zuko goes to walk by Mai and they make their way down the tunnel. Zuko closes his eyes and pictures the city. If they’re going to make it out of West City by the tunnels, they’ll have to take the next left available to them. He keeps his eyes peeled for a side tunnel as they walk and talk. 

“It’s cooler when you say it like that,” Ty Lee laughs. She clasps one of Mai’s hands in hers and swings their arms as they walk. “But, basically. I told Mai after we started dating. There’s no record the government has ever experimented with this stuff, but I’m sure there’s evidence in Central Command. That’s where we ran from.” 

“You  _ knew _ ,” Zuko says, turning to her. “You  _ knew  _ those people after us were homunculi.”

“Artificial humans,” Ty Lee says, nodding. “I suspected. I only ever saw  _ one _ when my sisters and I were held.” She shivers and moves closer to Mai. It  _ is  _ cold down in the tunnel. There’s no water, so it must not be used as a sewer line anymore. But the metal keeps out any heat and sucks up the cold of the earth it’s embedded in. “He had thick sideburns and angry red eyes. Shadows were all around him, like little hands ready to grab you up!”

“Pride,” Sokka says, shivering himself. “Who is  _ missing _ , I guess?”

“I guess,” Zuko says. “According to Gluttony - Mai’s uncle.”

“Clearly he wasn’t, not really. Maybe not ever,” Mai snorts. “Whatever. It’s not like I ever saw too much of him growing up. Maybe if I had, I’d have realized something was  _ wrong _ with him…” She trails off and Zuko’s heart goes out to her. It must be hard. He’s glad she didn’t have to see Gluttony’s  _ second _ mouth open up, his stomach ripped into a gaping maw with razor sharp teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” Zuko mutters softly. He feels partially responsible. “If we hadn’t come to you…”

“Someone would have come for us eventually,” Mai points out. “My wife is part  _ vermin.” _

“Hey!” Ty Lee squawks, even as Mai chuckles and bends a bit to kiss her temple. 

“Where to now?” Mai says. “And will you explain to us  _ exactly _ what the hell is going on now that we’ve been driven from our home?” She sighs, the sound tinged with sadness and a bit of disappointment. “I liked that house. At least I have my knives…”

“Now, we meet Azula and our other friends in Resembool,” Zuko says. He feels a rush of air by his left and makes the flame in his palm burn brighter. There - another tunnel. He herds everyone in its direction. “Left leads us out of West City. When we get to the end of the tunnel system, we’ll get out, see if we can catch a train out east. We’ll have to take a few, backtrack a bit to make sure no one is following us. But we’ll get there.”

“And an explanation?” Mai presses as she helps Ty Lee over a pipe in their way. It gets a bit wetter the further they go this way. Zuko has a bad feeling they’re about to hit sewage. He looks at Sokka and sees his lips pursed, like he’s just swallowed a sour lemon slice - great, Sokka suspects sewage too. Zuko can tell just by that look. 

“Right, well. It’s a long way to Resembool,” Zuko sighs. “And there’s plenty Sokka doesn’t know either - I’ll explain that too.” He thinks for a moment, the only sound the swishing of their limbs through ankle deep water. “Well, a few months ago, Azula and I got attacked in the warehouse district of Central City…”

* * *

It takes a week to get back to Resembool. What would have been a day and a half trip gets tripled with the amount of times they backtrack and take carts instead of trains. They’d been in the sewers for a whole day and night, as it was. But still, Zuko had erred on the side of caution. 

The rolling hills of green signalling Resembool are the most welcome sight Zuko has laid eyes on in a while. 

They slip out of the back of the supply train, having stowed away for the last leg of their trip to shake any remaining tails. Zuko had been sure someone was following them, but they’d lost them when they’d doubled around Central City two days ago. Good. He felt a lot better about coming back to their hometown like this. 

It’s pitch black by the time they sneak off the train, everyone wearing the darkest clothes they had brought in their packs. Sokka has a pistol in each holster, just in case. Mai has knives in hers, ready to throw at an assailant’s face. Zuko has seen the damage Ty Lee’s tail can do and she’s kept it unbound the whole trip. Zuko is a snap away from frying someone alive. But they’re able to sneak to the Imiq house without running into anyone. It’s past midnight and the lights are out on every floor of the house. But Zuko knows that if there were lights on in the basement, no one outside the house would know. 

Sokka takes them to the back of the house and finds the spare key to the storm cellar door hidden above the backdoor frame. They slip inside and enter through the storm cellar. The moment the double, inground doors are shut behind them and they’re plunged in darkness, Zuko feels a blade at his throat. 

Around them, oil lamps are lit, their brightness turned up. Sighs of relief go off around the room. 

Suki lowers her fan blade and flips the device back into a hand. She grins, her eyes going from bright red back to their natural color. She winks. Zuko rolls his eyes. Of course, June had been the one to attack him first. 

“Long time no see, stranger,” Suki says, then throws her arms around him in a hug. 

“Sokka!” Katara yells from across the room and then launches herself into her brother’s arms. He hugs her tight. 

“Sparky, Snoozles, you brought friends!” Toph says, coming out from her hiding spot. She’s got her head bandaged, but she waves off Aang’s concerned noises. “Don’t be rude Aang, say hello! We haven’t seen them in forever!”

“Toph, you’re still bleeding!” Aang insists. But he turns to Zuko and the others, giving them a warm smile. “I’m so glad you’re alright!” 

“Thanks,” Zuko says. “This is Mai and her wife, Ty Lee.”

_ “Wife?” _ comes a familiar voice from behind him. Zuko turns, heart racing. Azula’s large, armored body greets him, eyes flaming in her helmet. “Why weren’t we invited to the wedding?” she grouses. 

Zuko rushes up to her and they stand there, awkward for a moment, taking each other in. She looks none the worse for wear, though he can tell by the way she’s holding herself that something has happened. He thumps his head against her chest plate, resting against her for a while. A coil in his chest loosens, one he didn’t even know was so tight. They’re reunited. They’re okay. As long as they have each other, they can make it to the end, he knows they can. 

“Okay?” he asks.

“We can talk about it later,” she says. Then she pushes him back from her, gloved hands on his shoulders. “You got… taller,” she says. “Huh.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, scratching his head. “Yeah. I think… maybe the distance… and our souls being shared and all… not being around you didn’t stunt my growth. But your body…”

“It’s getting weaker,” she confirms. “I’ve… been spending a lot of time with it, recently. Not entirely by my own choice.” That must be why she seems so tense. They need to end this all, and soon. Before Azula disappears one day and doesn’t come back. 

“I’d get you out of there,” Zuko assures her. It feels almost anticlimactic, seeing her again. He throws his arms around her armor and hugs her tight, startling her if the  _ oof _ she made is anything to go by. 

“Zuko-”

“I missed you, ok?” he admits gruffly, determined not to look her in the face. 

“Ok, Zuzu,” she mocks, but her arms gingerly fall around him. “Ok.”

“I  _ hate _ to break up the little love fest,” Toph starts, “but I think we have some things to discuss.”

“She’s right,” Azula says, shoving Zuko away from her in the next moment. 

“Ow,” Zuko mutters, tripping over his own leg. He bumps into Sokka, who steadies him. 

“Gentle with my boyfriend,” Sokka squawks. “There's only one of him and I’ve  _ already _ replaced all the pieces of him that I can.”

“Boyfriend?” Katara yelps and Aang lets out a belly laugh of contentment. 

“Okay, we … will return to that. But later,” Toph says. She turns to Suki and holds out her hand, “You owe me money, by the way. You, too, June.”

June must say something to her, because then Suki yells, “No way! You get back here, June - I am  _ not _ going to be the only one to pay up on this bet!”

“Why did you even  _ take _ that bet?” Katara mutters, shaking her head and leaning against Aang. “You know Toph is the  _ queen _ of gambling.”

“She’s  _ queen _ of more than that,” Suki says with a red flash of her eyes. June, then. 

But then Suki is back in charge and hisses, “Shut  _ up _ .” Which, weird. Zuko will ask later. Toph kicks her shin and Suki swears, “Fuck, Toph it’s just  _ me _ .”

“Oops.”

“Okay!” Sokka says. “Bigger fish to fry. We have someone to meet, don’t we?”

“Right, that Sozin guy,” Mai says, hand in Ty Lee’s. “We’ll… explain our presence after?”

“Probably best,” Zuko agrees. “So, Sozin?” The wave of apprehension he feels from Azula is unsettling, but she leads them all to the very back of the basement. They can all catch up  _ after _ . 

Bato and Hakoda are standing guard in front of a door in the dirt wall of the basement. Their faces light up with smiles upon seeing Zuko and Sokka unharmed. But Zuko gets down to business first. He nods to the door and they nod back, stepping away from it. Zuko takes a deep breath and opens it. 

“So, you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist, are you?” the man in front of him says. He turns around. 

“Whoa,” Zuko gasps. Azula snorts by his shoulder. Besides his hair and eyes being the same shades as Zuko and Azula’s, the man in front of them looks  _ exactly _ like the homunculi’s Father. 

“How eloquent, Brother,” Azula sighs. 

“Indeed,” Sozin snorts. 


	6. The Promised Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally the Promised Day. Zuko and his friends are as ready for battle as they can be. They've gathered their allies, are marching on Central, and are determined to put an end to Father. But will it be enough? 
> 
> And if it is enough, what happens next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, the title comes from a stanza in _The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam:_
> 
> **Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate  
>  I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate  
> And many a knot unravel’d by the Road;  
> But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate.**
> 
> **There was the Door to which I found no key,  
>  There was the Veil through which I might not see.  
> Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE  
> There was - and then no more of THEE and ME.**
> 
> I also tweaked it into the riddle song that the white shadow AKA Truth AKA God???? (maybe????) sings in this, with a few minor changes so that it fit with the dialogue. 
> 
> This is the last formal chapter! All that's left is an epilogue. Sorry if anything feels rushed or disjointed - there was much trying on my end and I finally eked out the last installment of this fic! It's been a wonderful ride, y'all. 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, who went through this at the last minute because I sent it to them at the last minute. [hilsplusterrorss](https://hilplusterrorss.tumblr.com/) you are a godsend. 
> 
> Art by the lovely [ragdollnetic](https://ragdollnetic.tumblr.com/), who created this chapter's art as a bonus piece and it makes me emotional every time I think about that.
> 
> This chapter fast forwards several weeks from the last one because now it's the Promised Day, which was (in the last chapter) several weeks away still by the time they got to Resembool. I think that's the only time-skippy note that's, well, worth noting. 
> 
> Onward!

_There’s so much knowledge that floods his mind, when Zuko opens the Doorway._

_He’s just 13 - he thinks it’s too much to handle. But if it will get them their mother back, then he can handle it. Azula is somewhere behind him, he knows she is, he can_ feel _her presence among many as he goes._

_And he goes._

_Like getting caught in a rushing river, he goes. There is knowledge and there are stars. The planets align in the vast darkness above him and all the way down, one spins frantically, rings flashing. And above that planet, that beautiful giant called Saturn, a bright, white shadow is perched among the stars, sprawled as if on a throne. Zuko knows too much and at the same time not enough. He can’t make sense of all the knowledge inside of him. He needs help. The white shadow can help._

_It’s as though thinking it makes it true. Suddenly there is only brightness all around. And the only thing he can hear is that white shadow, singing._

“Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate.  
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate.  
And many a knot unravel’d by the Road;  
But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate.”

 _Zuko is mesmerized. It has no formal shape - at once humanoid and a murky blob. The white is so bright but the song is alluring. Zuko moves forward. The shadow has no face, but Zuko_ feels _a gaze on him and knows he’s being addressed._

“What is the Door to which there is no key?  
What is the Veil through which one might not see?  
Oh, come talk awhile of ME and THEE.  
Until there is no more of THEE and ME.”

_“What is this place?” Zuko asks, ignoring the question. A door to which there is no key? What does that even mean? He thinks, briefly, there had been a Doorway into this place. He doesn’t know how he unlocked it, exactly. Maybe that’s what the shadow means. “Who are you?”_

_The white shadow tips the sphere that Zuko thinks is its head and says, “Why are you here?”_

_It catches Zuko off guard. Why_ is _he here? He knows there’s something urgent. Something that he went into this Beyond for. He opened the Doorway and came inside, and he learned it all. He learned it All. But for what?_

_“What?” Zuko asks. He looks at his hands, suddenly aware of himself. This isn’t right, he thinks vaguely. Something isn’t right. There’s more to him, more to life, than what he’s seeing now. He thinks he hears someone scream his name but when he looks up, there’s no one there. Just the white shadow and the endless brightness._

_“Why? Are you? Here?” the white shadow repeats, each phrase separate from the others. It has no eyes, no nose, no ears. But it has a mouth that moves. And suddenly, it smiles, all bright, square teeth. Zuko feels something new, finally: unease. “Why do you live?” it asks him._

_“I live… I live to learn!” Zuko crows in triumph. “To gain knowledge!” But why couldn’t he remember how he got here,_ why _he was here? He remembers learning, a teacher. Two, two teachers. Men, patient and kind. But there’s someone else there, before all of that. A woman. Kind. Caring. Patient. He can’t remember her. He just remembers learning. And the knowledge he’s gained here could fill a hundred thousand classrooms._

 _“What is this knowledge you have gained worth?” the shadow asks. “For it is_ my _knowledge I have given you. What is it worth? Is it worth your life?” Zuko visibly blanches. This thing wanted his_ life _? “No?” it says, at his hesitance, still smiling in the still whiteness. “Maybe just a limb, then? A limb, and a vague remembrance?” A limb, Zuko thinks, looking at his hands again. Could he give a limb for all he’s learned? That could be worth it. He could live without an arm. Or a leg. “Just a limb, and a vague remembrance? Your sister put more stock in it than that…”_

 _His sister? His_ sister. _Azula._

 _“Where is she?!” Zuko screams. And the white world comes crashing down. The stars are back and he’s spinning. How could he have forgotten? Azula, their_ mother _, god, their mother. They needed her back. And the knowledge he has. He could do it, he thinks. He could bring her back. With Azula’s help, equipped with this knowledge, this_ power, _he could do anything. “Where’s my sister?” Zuko yells again. She had been beside him, he was so sure._

_The white shadow snaps, and everything is white again. Still again. Then it points and Zuko follows its finger. He can’t move._

_Azula’s body is floating there in the nothingness, her face frozen in terror._

_“No!”_

_The white shadow points again, this time directly behind Zuko. He turns. There is a Door. It is large and ornate, carved with alchemical symbols all springing from a tree of life. It is knowledge. It is power. Most importantly, it is_ his _._

_“That is your Doorway. The power and knowledge you now have. And that is hers,” the white shadow says, pointing back to Azula’s floating body, horizontal in mid-air. A Door materializes out of the whiteness, like from a mist. It is large and ornate. The symbols have more order, all in their own circles with attaching arrays and lines, words of power and focus. Where Zuko’s door is organic, Azula’s is structured. Her body floats and floats and floats._

_“And now, what will you do with it? All that power, all that control. You can do anything - well, almost,” the shadow continues. Something is wrong. A flash of pain is building in Zuko’s body. He can’t pinpoint where. A limb and a remembrance, the shadow had said. And it seemed, on the white shadow’s, insubstantial body, something is materializing right where a leg would be. The pain is growing in Zuko. But he has a question to answer. All this power and control. What will he do?_

_“Give us our mother back!” Zuko yells. That’s all they want. That’s the whole point of all of this. Bring back the dead, right the wrong._

_It’s a trick question, Zuko thinks far too late. He screams and falls to the ground, even though there is no ground, just more white that he stands on, sturdy and unsturdy. Impossible yet clearly happening. Just like, when he looks down, his leg dissolving into thin air is also clearly happening. He screams and looks to the white shadow. Zuko’s leg is now attached to it, as if the shadow’s own._

_“Hmmm,” the white shadow muses, using Zuko’s leg to kick out, testing it’s range of motion. “Wrong answer. Better luck next time?”And before Zuko can scream and ask what it means, before he can reach out and touch his sister, the white Veil beyond the Doorway is gone. He’s back in the study, there’s a monster of flesh and bone moaning in the transmutation circle. Zuko has no leg and just a vague remembrance of what he learned from the white shadow._

_And his sister is gone._

* * *

The Promised Day, the day of the eclipse, is tomorrow. And they’re splitting up again. 

This time, Zuko refuses to be parted from his sister. Sokka tries to pull the same thing, but _Katara_ knows where she’s needed. 

“I need to go with Aang, Suki, June, and Toph,” Katara tells Sokka holding him at arms length and avoiding his needy hug, “to help Sozin finish the blood circles for the reverse transmutation circle. You can come with us, but we have plenty of firepower and I doubt we’re going to really start fighting _before_ we head back to Central to join the coup.”

“Is it really a coup if they’re evil, artificial humans?” Sokka hedges. 

They’re on the main floor of the house in the kitchen, everyone packed with supplies on their backs, ready to go. Zuko’s group will be meeting up with Uncle Iroh outside of Central at the military’s training ground where Eastern forces are supposed to meet up with Western forces and the Briggs crew. They’d gotten a single, innocuous message hand delivered by Uncle Iroh’s right hand soldier - Ming Yao. She’d come in the dead of night, scared them all half to death, and almost died herself if it hadn’t been for Azula recognizing her and letting June’s fan hand cut into her armor instead of Ming’s face. She’d been sent by Iroh, who figured they may be here and about to do something monumentally stupid. 

“Yes, it is still a coup,” Sozin says. Zuko, helping tighten the pack on Mai’s back, glares at the man. For all his importance to them, Zuko learned quickly that Sozin’s personality wasn’t too far off from Father’s. He was rude, prideful, and talked down to everyone. And yet, he would help them. He was world-weary and tired of living in an unending existence. Now, he’s in borrowed armor, obtained from Haru down the road and his second-hand shop. Zuko is sure that the armor, so similar to what Azula is wearing, is meant to be a piece of decoration now. But if Sozin wants to wear it, so be it. 

“I still think he’s lying,” Mai says. “About what he wants in return for helping us.”

“What, to die?” Zuko responds, adjusting the strap of the pack so it doesn’t dig into Mai’s shoulder. Azula is helping Ty Lee, making sure the pack doesn’t obstruct her tail. Azula had taken the whole _chimera_ thing in stride. Zuko is sometimes so jealous that his sister can’t form expressions. 

“I mean, why would he want to die? He has power and fortune. What else does he need?” Mai huffs, turning to face Zuko. Zuko opens his mouth to answer, but Sozin, ever observant, cuts in. 

“I want what you have, young lady,” Sozin intones. His golden eyes, so reminiscent of Zuko’s, narrow. “You have a wife. Friends. Family. You have _life_ . I do not. I am forced to carry on in this worthless existence, while everyone dear to me is already dust. And some _abomination with my face_ intends to force the world into this existence? This worthless servitude? I think not. Let us _end_ Father, the First Homunculus, this Dwarf in A Flask, and then end me too, for I will no longer have the aid of longevity or these souls fueling me.”

“You mention love, family,” Zuko says, walking over to them. Hakoda and Bato, making sure Toph and Suki are properly armored, look to each other in concern, then pretend they aren’t listening as they adjust the armor they’ve made on the young women in front of them. “I know you at least procreated if Azula, me and our family are your descendents but you don't need love or family yourself to do that. Did you have either?”

“I did,” Sozin snaps, venomous. “I’m sure the Nomad has heard of at least the one I loved.” He turns to Aang, anxiously tugging on one end of his robes. These are tighter fitting than his usual style, so as not to snag on anything should he need to make a run for it. In the village, where the local community of Nomads live, others gather at this moment, ready for Aang to lead them to the proper places to put copies of the reverse transmutation circle. There are only a few left: the ones around Central, as it were. 

“Who - uh - who should I have heard of, um, Mr. Sozin, sir?” Aang stutters out. Beside him, Katara rolls her eyes, not in the least intimidated by Sozin. Sokka frowns. 

“My lover, Roku,” Sozin responds. 

Aang _blanches_ , eyes looking as though they could pop from his head. 

“The fire god _?”_ Aang splutters. 

“He was a man, not a god. But he was blessed by your supreme deity to control Fire. There were others who could control their sole element, and I loved them adjacently, as friends and family. But Roku was of my own heart…” Sozin sighs and closes his eyes. He seems all the thousands of years old that he is. “I just want to go wherever he is and leave you lot to this rotten world.”

“Ooookay,” Sokka mutters, sliding past his sister and to Zuko. “How is this our life?” he mumbles, hiding his face in Zuko’s shoulder. 

“I have no idea, join the club,” Zuko mutters back, rubbing a hand down Sokka’s back. After the initial teasing, and Bato crying while Hakoda laughed so hard he pulled a muscle in his back, the others let up and Zuko felt much more comfortable being affectionate with Sokka in front of them. He can still feel Azula smiling at them, but it’s warm rather than mocking, and he knows no one else can feel the sentiment, so he keeps the knowledge to himself. 

“I think I’m going with you all,” Sokka says, lifting his head. Zuko nods, swallowing hard. He had suggested that Sokka, Mai, and Ty Lee, at the least, stay behind, and had gotten an earful from all three. Bato and Hakoda were going to stay, but only in case anyone tried to attack Resembool while the rest of them were occupied. A stray homunculus, perhaps?

“Pride is not coming back here,” Azula says, as though she can read his mind and knew exactly who he was thinking about. Zuko scowls, turning to her where she’s oiling her armor with the best oil from Hakoda’s shelves. 

“I just don’t think the ball of earth you trapped him in is going to hold forever. I don’t even understand _how_ you got that to work!” Zuko exclaims. 

“Is he always this screechy?” Sozin muses, getting along with Azula far better than with anyone else. Zuko is sure it’s their acerbic attitudes that jive so well. 

“Yes,” Azula responds, even as Zuko squawks in indignation. “And I told you Zuzu, we ran into him when we cut through Central to go down to South City after we left Briggs. He caught us snooping through the city with his icky little shadow hands. We lured him out into the suburbs and Sozin came up with the idea to trap him in the earth where no light could reach him to make his shadows.”

“And I daresay it worked. I haven’t sensed any of those nasty little homunculi besides your friend there,” Sozin says, nodding to Suki.

Suki’s eyes go red, and June snaps, “Yeah, fuck off, boyo. No one asked you for your opinion.”

“And that’s pretty rich,” Toph pipes up with a scoff, “seeing as _you’re_ technically a homunculus too - just the kind like the Fuhrer is, where the homunculus magicky mumbo-jumbo gets added _to you_ as a human instead of what _made you.”_

“Well said Lady Beifong,” Suki says, back in control. 

“That may be so,” Sozin snarls back, “but at least I”-

“Enough!” Zuko snaps, standing between the two of them. They don’t have _time_ for this. Sokka just makes a face of distaste and shrugs at his fathers who stand awkwardly between them all. “Pride is occupied for now, fine. Sozin, Aang, Katara, Suki, and Toph are going to finish up the reverse transmutation circle while the rest of us meet up with Uncle.” He turns to Sozin, the man still seething with his eyes slit and focused on Toph, who’s sticking her tongue out at him with unerring aim. “Sozin, is there anything else you need from us?”

With one more sneer to Toph, who can’t see it and so doesn’t care in the least, Sozin replies, “No. Just remember, the reverse circle will only go into effect _after_ the first circle is triggered. There’s no telling what will happen in the few minutes it will take for that to happen. So brace yourselves.” His eyes flash with fury and Zuko takes a step back in fright. “That _thing_ took everything from me, young man. Let us make sure it doesn’t have the chance to continue doing so, or to take everything from everyone else.” With that he turns on a heel and stomps off to another room. 

“God, he’s so intense,” Sokka sighs. “And for what reason?”

“Some people just need to let it out,” Bato says with a shrug. “Your armor set?” he asks Sokka. Sokka nods and pats the light chest plate he has on. 

“As ready as it’ll ever be. Not the same as automail, but it’ll help,” Sokka replies. “Time to say goodbye.” And then he promptly throws himself into Bato’s arms and dramatically wails. Bato rolls his eyes while Hakoda has another laughing fit. 

“You take after him,” Bato says, nodding to Hakoda. He shoves Sokka into Hakoda’s arms. “Have fun with that.”

“Hey!” Sokka yelps. “I wasn’t finished!”

“Be careful out there,” Katara says to Azula, hugging her briefly before stepping back and clearing her throat. “I’ll see you soon. Make sure my brother doesn’t do anything stupid.” The two young women turn to where Sokka and Hakoda are now play-wrestling amid their goodbyes. “On second thought, that may be an impossible feat. Just make sure he doesn’t die. That should be a bit easier.”

“Indeed,” Azula intones. Katara walks off to Aang, who waves at her and grins. 

“See you soon!” he says, all cheery smiles. Zuko doesn’t know how he does it. “We’ll all be in Central by tomorrow.”

“Can we speed this up a bit?” Ming asks Zuko quietly, where she’s been standing in the corner of the room, watching everyone interacting with one another. 

“We might die out there,” Zuko replies with a shrug, in no rush to go off. “We’ll be off within the hour.”

“The train we need to leave on departs in 20 minutes. You have until then,” Ming replies blandly, and goes to wait out back. 

Zuko sighs. Of course it does. 

“You heard the woman,” he calls to his friends. “Everyone who’s in the advance group, get ready. We need to go.” 

Sokka, Mai, and Ty Lee grab their gear and head to the door, ready to be off. Azula, however, is still in the back of the living room with Suki. Azula’s large body is bent down and it seems like she’s whispering something harshly with Suki, who has the biggest smile on her face and doesn’t seem to be bothered one bit by the fact that they need to go. Zuko hates to interrupt whatever the hell is going on, but they seriously need to board that train. 

“Azula!” he calls, waving her over. She lifts a gloved hand without looking at him and holds up a finger, asking for a minute more. He can spare that, he supposes. 

“Zuko,” Hakoda says, and Zuko turns. The man looks older than Zuko’s ever seen him, wrinkles making the skin of his face sag and large bags under his eyes making them droop. He and Bato have been up for the past three days making sure people have protective gear to wear, that Zuko’s and Suki’s automail, as well as Azula’s armor, are serviced well. It’s hard work and it must be terrifying - knowing that you’re sending your own children off to war. 

“Yeah?” Zuko asks. 

“Take care of my son,” he says, voice gravelly and a bit broken. “And yourself.” Then he pulls Zuko into a hug. “I’d like to see you and your sister with your original bodies by the end of this, if you can manage it.”

“I think - I think I can do that,” Zuko mutters into the man’s shoulder. Hakoda pulls Zuko closer to him and cradles the back of his head with a hand. 

“I know you can.”

Zuko sort of wants to cry but he holds it back, squeezes this man who has been like a father to him one more time, and reluctantly lets go. He wishes he were a child, that he could just let the adults fight this one, but the truth is that Zuko has been fighting this battle since he _was_ a child. It’s been most of his life. This is his chance to finally end it. 

“Ready?” he says to Azula as she clunks over. Suki goes over to her group, where Toph is making faux vomiting noises and gagging. Suki’s eyes go red, and June flicks Toph across the nose, causing Toph to knock off the immature behavior, but also to throw a rock that’s been turned into iron at June’s face. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Azula agrees. Mai and Ty Lee nod, Sokka takes Zuko’s hand, and they’re out the door, following Ming to the train station. 

* * *

“He did _what?!”_ Zuko snaps, feeling like a vein is about to explode in his temple. 

“I _said_ ,” Iroh repeats, the same vein in _his_ temple throbbing, “I regret to inform you, but the Crystalline Alchemist went too far with his distraction. He has _blown up_ your father’s, the Fuhrer’s, train while the Fuhrer was still on it and has since begun engaging Central Command forces in battle in the middle of the city.”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with him?” Zuko snaps. They’d only just arrived in his uncle’s camp outside of Central City proper. General Bumi had been nowhere to be seen, and neither had his forces been. Zuko had thought they were late, but it seems that Bumi went a bit off script. 

“There goes our element of surprise,” Sokka moans. Ty Lee pats him on the shoulder to console him and Mai seethes with Azula. 

“That fool! We had an advantage and now he’s lost it for us!” Azula snaps. 

“Hey, wait, but maybe we gained one?” Sokka says, ceasing his own wailing. Zuko turns to his boyfriend and frowns. He can’t see an advantage in the enemy knowing they’re coming, but Sokka’s always been bright, especially when it comes to strategy. “The Fuhrer, you said he was declared missing, didn’t you General Iroh?”

“Indeed,” Iroh replies. Zuko’s eyes widen in understanding. 

“Do his forces know? That’ll lessen morale for sure. And if my father is missing, then that means their leader is gone for now and that weakens them. That’s one less homunculus for us to deal with as we try to make our way toward Father’s lair under Central. It’s the center of the country - he’ll have to be there to set off the transmutation circle.”

“His troops have been informed,” Iroh confirms and Zuko wants to shout with joy but his uncle continues speaking. “And they have also declared that Western Command is staging a coup all across the city’s radio waves - including civilian and public radio.” 

Zuko cringes. That’s the last thing they need - the public set against them. 

“I mean, they’re not wrong?” Sokka says, cringing as well. 

“And anyway, let’s be real - how long is a train explosion going to really stop a homunculus?” Mai points out, twirling a knife. Fuck, but Zuko has been trying not to think about that either. 

“I need to get into the city,” Iroh says looking in the direction of the Central Command center. From this far out of the city, only the top of the building is visible in a creamy, white dome made of the smoothest marble. “I need to assess the situation.” Then he whistles. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Azula grouches flinching from the sound. She’s been quieter these past few days, more prone to being disoriented by sudden stimulus. Zuko is afraid that she’s slipping. She’d told him she’d been called back to her body four times during their separation. Once, she’d been gone a full 24 hours. She’s losing her connection to this world. 

“Calling in reinforcements,” Iroh says with a grin, clapping his niece on one spiked shoulder guard. 

Moments later, a squad of his men come rushing forth, all brandishing the latest models of pistols and shoulder rifles. One of the officers presents Sokka with the same model and Zuko can see the drool from where he stands. It occurs to him then that weapons were supposed to be supplied by -

“Master Jeong Jeong! Master Piandao!” Azula calls out in surprise. Zuko follows her gaze and sees their old masters making their way through the crowd of officers. Piandao has a sword and a belt that has two pistol holders worked into the leather. Jeong Jeong has no weapon, but is dressed in the military’s light armor. Both men have grim looks on their faces, but their eyes soften at the sight of Zuko and Azula. 

“Azula, you’re awake,” Jeong Jeong says. Zuko can feel the mix of embarrassment and despair cemenating from Azula where she has come to stand beside him. 

“Yes, I regained consciousness soon after we parted ways in South City,” she tells him. That’s a lie - that had been the time she had been out for a whole day. But their old teachers didn’t need to know that. 

“I’m glad to see you here,” Jeong Jeong says, ignoring the lie that Zuko is sure he can hear. But now is not the time. “And Zuko. It has been quite some time.” His eyes roam over their friends and he lifts a brow. “A chimera?”

“Oh hi!” Ty Lee says, waving. Her tail pokes out from over her shoulder and shakes at Jeong Jeong and Piandao in a facsimile of a wave as well. “Caught that quick, huh?”

“He has very good eyes,” Piandao says with a straight face, gesturing to the side of Jeong Jeong’s face that is scarred right through one eye. Sokka loses his head in laughter and Piandao smiles. “Ah, someone who appreciates humor?”

“You call _that_ humor?” Mai mutters to Zuko, who grins at her in agreement. 

“Jeong Jeong, Piandao,” Iroh’s voice booms, “lead the elite officers into the city from the west side. I will lead the others from the east. The radio correspondence we’ve intercepted claims that most of the fighting is happening downtown at the foot of Central Command. We are to provide backup to Western forces. Am I clear?” Both men nod. “Do not kill _anyone_ ,” Iroh continues. “That’s an order for you all. We are here to take back our country, not to end it with mindless killing. Our goal is to get Fullmetal Alchemist and his entourage into Central Command, take control of the building, and then hold our position and let Fullmetal complete his mission. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the officers echo. 

Iroh nods to Jeong Jeong and Piandao. The men return the nod and go off with their troops. Iroh turns to Ming. 

“When you see the flare rise up in the sky, that’s when I need you to come in with our reserve corps. They don’t need to know how many soldiers we really have, and we’ll need relief, by the end of this.”

“Yes, General Iroh,” Ming responds, saluting him. Iroh looks at her and Zuko wonders if he’s seeing a bit of Lu Ten. 

“Ming,” Iroh says, and Zuko holds his breath. He’s never heard his uncle sound so sad before. “When this is over, Ming, you should leave the military. It’s no place for someone as kind as you.”

Zuko agrees. “You won’t be the only one,” he adds in, supporting his uncle. 

Ming laughs. “No way. I go where the General goes.”

“Remind me you said that, if I’m still alive at the end of all of this,” Iroh grouses, but then he turns to his own troops and nods to Zuko. “Soldiers! We march!”

It feels like war. It feels like the end. In less than 24 hours, the sun will be eclipsed and something even more dastardly than a mutineering army will be approaching them. Zuko feels his hands shake. But then Sokka takes one, and Mai stands beside him, with Ty Lee smiling at Zuko beside her. Behind him, he feels the reassuring presence of Azula, unmoving, unwavering. 

They can do this. And if they can’t, at least they’ll go down trying. 

* * *

There are explosions going off in the city, and Zuko has lost count of the number of bullets they’ve dodged. It’s the middle of the night and they’re still fighting to reach the downtown area. Every time he gets a glimpse of the sky, his stomach clenches with dread. Tiny tendrils of light signaling the dawn have been teasing them on the horizon. They should have more time, he thinks. They need more time. 

“Sokka! Duck!” Zuko yells. Sokka flattens himself to the ground and Zuko claps and snaps, sending a hail of fire at the soldiers hiding behind an abandoned warehouse. Oh, goody. They’re back in the warehouse district. Things really do come full circle oftentimes, don’t they? The soldiers yelp and execute a full retreat to where they have more cover. Uncle Iroh nods to Zuko and has their soldiers push forward. They’re only a few miles away from Central Command at this point, but they’ve had to fight for every mile they’ve taken. At this point, they’ll be fighting for the rest of the dwindling night and well into the early morning. 

“This is ridiculous,” Mai grumbles, running alongside Zuko. Her favorite knife is on a lead that she yanks back to her after she throws it, and she does this now, the blade whipping back into her hand. Up ahead, Ty Lee is climbing up the side of a warehouse, quick and nimble as a mouse, to scout for forces ahead. She calls down positions to Iroh’s men and they start to take down the next wave of soldiers. 

“Sir!” the officer manning their radio calls. Both Zuko and Iroh turn, and Zuko can’t help the tiny smile that tugs at his mouth. He and his uncle are currently the highest ranking officers here and when a soldier neglects to specify which he’s speaking to, they both end up responding - just in case. 

“Speak, sergeant,” Uncle says. He wipes a smear of blood from his cheek. 

“I found the public frequency where they’re reporting on the coup. Shall I keep it monitored?”

“Yes,” Iroh says. “Report the direction the public leads. If anything urgent comes up, get me or the Fullmetal Alchemist immediately.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Why are we tracking public opinion?” Sokka asks, out of breath and covered in soot. Zuko doesn’t want to know what just happened. He picks a bit of debris out of Sokka’s hair. 

“We can’t tell the public they’ve been ruled over for centuries by a homunculus,” Azula says, striding in from a cloud of smoke to their left. Someone must have set off another explosive. Zuko is a bit terrified of where the hell Jeong Jeong and Piandao found all of their weapons and ammunition. But he is thankful for it. “We need to see what they think, and then craft a story that follows a similar narrative, when this is all over.” She turns to their uncle, eyes glowing bright. “Am I correct, Uncle?”

“As always,” Iroh sighs. “There are some things that just wouldn’t help the public to know about. This is one of them.”

“I don’t usually agree with holding back the truth, but this time I do,” Azula says. Zuko thinks her whole armored body is shaking, but right now, they don’t have the luxury of time for him to stop and ask her what the hell is wrong. 

“We’ll be as honest as we can, but not about this,” Iroh says, shaking his head. “We don’t need someone else trying to create homunculi.”

“I couldn’t agree mo-”

Azula goes crashing to the ground. 

“Azula!” Zuko yells. At first, he thinks her soul is gone again, but when he looks at her helmet face, her fireball eyes are still lit and _very_ wide. “Azula?”

“Something’s got my le _eeeeg!”_ she yells, getting dragged into the earth. Fuck, Zuko wishes Toph was here; she’d be able to reverse whatever the hell was going on. As it is, Zuko claps and slaps his palms to the ground. Everyone has since moved out of the way. A giant circle is forming in the street, cracking the cobblestone and shaking everything around them. Azula is up to her waist in stone, scrabbling around her for some purchase. Mai and Sokka run forward, grabbing her hands and pulling, even as Iroh orders his soldiers to push back. 

Zuko forms the earth around Azula into a fist of stone and lifts her out of the ground, Mai tackling Sokka out of the way of it. And attached to Azula’s foot, presumably trying to drag her down under the earth…

“Is that _Sloth?”_ Azula screeches, shaking her leg to rid herself of the homunculus. 

It is, indeed, Sloth. 

Sloth roars, letting go of Azula’s leg and dropping to the ground. The homunculus stares at the group of soldiers and takes a deep breath. It’s either going to charge them or shoot that beam of destructive red light from its forehead. Neither of those options are good. Zuko would know, having been on the wrong end of both. 

“Run for cover!” Zuko yells and the soldiers scatter. It doesn’t matter much. The group nearest to Sloth gets charged. Sloth runs with lightning speed, there one minute and gone the next. The soldiers are thrown carelessly aside by the force of the hit, like bowling pins in a strike. Zuko lowers Azula to the ground and swats at Sloth with the hand of stone he’s made. But another figure appears before Sloth and _devours_ a chunk of the stone hand with the grotesque mouth that has opened from their stomach. 

“Did you miss me, Fullmetal?” Gluttony booms with a sick laugh. Zuko abandons the stone hand and runs to Azula. 

“Gluttony,” she hisses, getting to her feet slowly. 

“Are you alright?” Zuko asks. He has no idea where their uncle went in the fight. He can barely make out Mai and Sokka in the rubble on the far side of the street, with Ty Lee clinging to a powerline pole above them, the only thing that survived Sloth’s charging attack. It’s just Zuko and Azula, staring down not just one but _two_ homunculi. 

“I’ll be better once those two are dust beneath my boot heel,” Azula growls, balling her hands into fists. She claps her hands together and slaps them to the ground. Immediately, large arrows of metal shoot up, transmuted from the stone. Sloth dodges two and takes a hit to the head that barely staggers it, while Gluttony eats a few and dodges the rest. 

“They’re just trying to stall us!” Zuko yells. He transmutes his automail plating into a sword and pulls the other from the scabbard on his back. He’s always preferred close-quarters battle. 

“I know, but we have to get through them to make it to Central Command. I wish there was more light!” Azula yells. She roars, claps again, and sends a spiral of fire at one of the warehouses. It goes up like so much dry kindling, illuminating the trashed street around them. There’s rubble and fire, bodies hidden among the stone. But they can see. “There we go!” she crows in triumph. And then: “Move, Zuko!”

Zuko rolls to the side without hesitation and feels the rush of air hit him from Sloth’s charging attack. He turns just in time to see the homunculus crash into one of the other warehouses, collapsing it into stone and wood. He looks to Azula, nods, and the two of them go charging for Gluttony. 

Zuko slashes at the maw opened up on Gluttony’s abdomen, taking care not to get sucked in while Azula tries to set the thing on fire. But Gluttony has learned from his siblings’ demises and dashes away from them, spitting out razor sharp teeth from both his mouths. Azula sweeps Zuko up into her arms and shields him from them, the teeth thudding into the back of her armor. 

“That’s disgusting,” she seethes. 

“We’re outnumbered here,” Zuko responds as Azula rolls them behind a chunk of cement from one of the buildings. There are a few cracks of sound in the air, and Gluttony roars in irritation. Sokka must be shooting at him from wherever he and Mai are hiding. In the rubble across from them, Sloth finally digs its way out, groaning the entire time. A moment later, Ty Lee alights beside Zuko and Azula, having climbed down from the pole. 

“I think you were safer up there,” Zuko admits. 

“What can we do against these things?” Ty Lee asks. Her hands are nervously twisted together and she keeps shooting looks at Sloth, the homunculus closest to them. 

“We fight until we can’t,” Zuko says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “They can regenerate so…”

“Oh,” Ty Lee replies. She peeks over the rubble they’re behind, probably looking for Mai. Zuko wants to do the same for Sokka but knows they probably won’t be able to see their loved ones.

“We’ll get to them, Ty Lee,” Zuko assures. 

“Of course we will, dumb-dumb,” Azula scoffs, but her armor shakes against his side. 

“Azula?” Zuko asks, a hand on her gauntlet. But he has no time to ask her what’s going on as Sloth turns to them and a bright red light shines on its forehead. “Move!” Zuko yells, pushing both women away from him. Ty Lee gets shoved to the left, Azula to the right, and Zuko flattens himself to the ground just in time. He still feels the end of his braid get singed right off. He’ll admit it feels like a real loss - he hasn’t cut his hair in 6 years, so it had been down to his waist. Now, it sits, undone, by his shoulders. “Go!” he yells, scrabbling to his feet and running away from Sloth. He has no idea where Gluttony is but the line of red energy that can melt anything is a bit higher on the priority list of avoidance. 

“Fullmetal, move!” comes an authoritative, grating voice. Zuko hits the ground again and rolls, right in time for General Pakku to come face to face with Sloth. Sloth hesitates, probably trying to place where he’s seen Pakku. “We meet again, fiend,” Pakku growls. Zuko rolls his eyes. Does this man have to be so dramatic and annoying about everything? “Steady now, men! Go help General Sozin and the engineer. I’ll take care of this one. Fullmetal!” 

“What?” Zuko yells. Where did Azula and Ty Lee go?

“Do you know the chemical makeup of nitrogen?” Pakku says, even as Sloth roars and gets ready to charge. 

“Of course, I do!” Zuko says, scrabbling to his feet and trying not to feel insulted. He’s a fucking _state alchemist_. A school child in a high enough grade level knows the chemical makeup of nitrogen. 

“And can you transmute it from the air molecules? Enough of it?” Pakku says, removing his military issue gloves to reveal brown hands, worn as leather, tattooed with transmutation symbols. Zuko sees the symbol for nitrogen but also one for… water?

“How much is enough?” Zuko yelps as Sloth backs up for the charge. 

“Enough to surround that _thing_ in a haze,” Pakku says. “I can do about half. I need you to get the other half. Can you do it or _not?”_ Pakku snaps, touching his fingertips to each other. His hands spark and Zuko can see a thin mist settling as the molecules in the air get transmuted. Zuko groans, and claps his hands together, taking a similar stance and breathing out. “Good!” Pakku yells. “Push the nitrogen cloud forward!” And Zuko does. He has no idea how the hell this is going to work, but he leaves that to Pakku. “Now get out here!” Pakku yells, walking into the nitrogen cloud they just made. 

Zuko… doesn’t really want to know, honestly. 

He jumps behind a burning pile of crates just as Sloth launches itself at them in a blur. Zuko doesn’t like Pakku, but the man doesn’t deserve to die by being trampled either. Still, Zuko can’t look away as the blur that is Sloth crosses into the nitrogen mist. 

And promptly freezes. 

“What the fuck?” Zuko mutters to himself, peeking out from behind the burning boxes. He had been expecting something grander than that, with all Pakku’s concentration. But he’ll admit he’s surprised that the homunculus is just… frozen, even among all the burning warehouses and the heat coming off the blazes. Pakku is standing in front of the frozen homunculus, the giant being completely white and starting to go black at the fingertips. Pakku exhales and the mist around him vanishes, transmuting back into the other oxygen and hydrogen molecules they had come from. “What the hell did you do to it?”

“I’m the Liquid Alchemist, boy,” Pakku says, huffing. Zuko grits his teeth. They’re in the middle of a turning battle in a war and the general wants to be _petty?_ “I’ve mastered turning elements that are gaseous or solid in nature into their liquid forms. Nitrogen under the right amount of pressure can drop to -346°F, turning it liquid. Below that, it turns solid. Either way, it can freeze, like our friend here. But the cold is so extensive it extends down to the tissues. This _thing_ is frozen solid. So I can do this.” Pakku lets out a yell and smashes his boot into Sloth’s face. Between the force of the hit and being so deeply frozen, Sloth shatters into pieces. Moments later, the pieces dissolve into red dust and fly away on the wind. 

“One more down,” Zuko murmurs, watching the red dust sparkle in the burning night. 

“My men are assisting your uncle. Shall we join them?” Pakku asks, nodding to where Zuko can hear more shooting, if he concentrates. Gluttony is still out there, somewhere. Zuko nods, keeping an eye out for Azula and Ty Lee. He finds Sokka bandaging Mai’s arm first, the two of them hunkered down with the officer manning the radio. Other soldiers shoot from behind a low wall that has managed to stay up from one of the warehouses going down. 

“Sokka!” Zuko calls, running to them. Something untwists in his chest. Sokka is alright, and so is Mai. He’s still worried about Azula and Ty Lee, but he’s sure the two of them can handle themselves, as long as they aren’t stuck with Gluttony alone. “You’re okay.”

“Of course he is, he was with me,” Mai says, wincing as Sokka pulls the dressing tight. “Hey! I’ll stab you if I have to.”

“Oh yeah, stab the guy who’s trying to make sure you don’t bleed out.”

“Where’s Ty Lee?” Mai asks, looking behind Zuko as though her wife will just appear. 

“With Azula, somewhere,” he admits, kneeling by the radio officer. “They’ll be okay. Pakku took out Sloth.”

“Damn it,” Sokka mutters. “Don’t give me a reason to respect the guy.”

“Gluttony?” Zuko asks. But Mai shakes her head. 

“He scrammed the second he saw the soldiers in white come in.”

“Briggs,” Zuko tells her. “From up North, hardier than Northern Command.” He watches Pakku launch someone on a stream of water that refuses to vaporize into heat around them. “A little unhinged,” Zuko continues. “Have you seen my uncle?”

“He’s pushing forward. He told us to hang back and wait for you, then move forward,” Sokka reports. He has his rifle resting across his knees. Now that he’s done tending to Mai, his hands fall back on it. “Should we go to him, then?”

Zuko is about to agree when the officer on the radio waves Zuko over. Zuko frowns and makes his way there. 

“What is it, officer?” Zuko asks, crouching by him. 

“The public radio is reporting again. This time it’s about you, sir,” the man says and pulls the plug on the earphones he had been using so everyone can listen. 

_“...seems that the Fuhrer’s son, Zuko Sozin, has been seen cavorting with forces from out east. There is general confusion - while it is public knowledge that the father and son are not close, do you think it’s a bit too far to say the Fullmetal Alchemist is really joining a coup against his own father?”_ the radio host asks. 

_“I’m not sure,”_ their guest says. _“But we do have two military officers with Southern Command that had been called to aid Eastern forces, who, as we know, made their debut in the city early this night with nothing known as to whom they were called here to aid. These officers are willing to share some information with the public. Gentlemen, please, what is going_ on _out there_?”

 _“Hello, Central City,”_ Jeong Jeong says over the radio waves and Zuko blanches. 

“What the _fuck_ are they doing out there?” Zuko snarls. 

“Commander Piandao and Alchemist Jeong Jeong made it near the side of the city where the radio station is. They reported in via radio message to the general, who asked if they had any ideas about how we could keep the public on our side,” the officer reports. “It seems they _did_ have an idea, sir.”

So, Zuko listens. 

_“... are you telling us that the upper echelons of Central Command have_ betrayed _the Fuhrer?”_ the radio host gasps on air. 

_“Indeed,”_ Piandao confirms, playing it straight. Well, it’s not a lie, Zuko surmises. They’re just keeping out that the Fuhrer sanctioned it. _“It seems the train attack on the Fuhrer was orchestrated by his own inner circle, not Western Command. Western forces, here for the training exercises that were to take place next week, were witness to this act and attacked the Central forces. Their General then contacted the Fuhrer’s older brother, General Iroh Sozin of Eastern Command who was also in the city with his forces for the training exercises. Instead, General Sozin mobilized his troops to help Western Command take back the city.”_

 _“Folks, this is_ incredible _. We are witnessing history here. Two brothers, at odds it always seems, coming together under the burden of protecting this country from those that would destroy it.”_ Sokka and Mai gag at the same time and Zuko rolls his eyes, still listening. At least, this way, any Central Command forces might listen in and believe that they were relying on bad orders. Maybe they would surrender or switch sides at this point. 

_“...limited casualties?”_ the host’s guest speaker says. 

_“Indeed,”_ Jeong Jeong replies. _“The other military posts don’t want to unduly take lives. These are soldiers that are just under orders. Bad orders, but orders nonetheless. They’re doing their jobs. We don’t want anyone unnecessarily dying out there.”_

Zuko turns to the sound of an explosion just in time to see one of the Briggs soldiers slit a Central soldier's throat. Zuko’s eyes widen. 

“Pakku!” he yells over the wall and into the fray. A moment later, the general in question fights his way through a crowd of men. 

“What is it now, Fullmetal?” Pakku crows. He touches his fingertips to each other and freezes the air in someone’s lungs right behind him. 

“You _did_ tell your soldiers not to kill anyone, didn’t you?” Zuko is sure that Uncle would have made that very clear in his orders to the other military posts. 

But Pakku scoffs. “Briggs soldiers show no quarter. If an enemy soldier comes face to face with one of my men, they’ll have to suffer the consequences of their spineless betrayal to this country.” And with that, he jumps back into the fray, leaving Zuko, Sokka, and Mai to stare in horror at the spot he had been standing in. 

“Let’s… let’s just go find my uncle,” Zuko says to them, trying to get the image of a dying man out of his mind. They need to end this, _as soon as possible_. People shouldn’t be dying like this. 

“Mai!” 

Zuko turns to find a large, hulking figure coming out of the smoke behind them. Azula walks up to them, her armor singed and covered in soot. Zuko is 100% sure he had just heard Ty Lee’s voice, but she’s nowhere to be found as Azula stops beside him. 

“Um.”

“In here, silly!” Ty Lee says from _inside Azula’s armor._

“Oh no, Ty Lee!” Sokka shouts. He runs up to them, banging on Azula’s chest plate. “Azula _ate_ Ty Lee!” he cries. 

Above his head, Azula sighs, rolling her eyes, and says, “You really love this buffoon brother? This one? This one in particular?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” Zuko says, hands hiding his face. “Please, just let her out. Before more soldiers come here and he just embarrasses all of us.” Azula nods and unclasps her chest plate, batting Sokka aside. Zuko steadies him, and rolls his eyes at Sokka’s gasp when Ty Lee climbs out of the armor from the chest plate opening. She’s dusty and a bit scraped up, but overall alright. 

“Thanks, Azula!” Ty Lee says, waving to her. She turns to Mai and runs over, hugging her tight. 

“To Uncle?” Zuko says, letting them have a moment. Azula nods. 

“I swear, it made sense at the time,” Sokka mutters sheepishly. For someone so smart in some things, Zuko is amazed at how dumb Sokka can be in others. 

It takes a few minutes to find Iroh, but he’s cleared a path from the warehouse district almost all the way to central command. Zuko doesn’t want to know how many people they’ve lost. With Briggs mowing down anyone who resists, Amestris may not have much of a military after all this is said and done. If they win. If they live. God, there are too many _ifs_. 

“We have a path to Central Command,” Iroh says. “Status report, Fullmetal.” Oh, his uncle means business, doesn’t he? 

“Piandao and Jeong Jeong have changed the narrative surrounding our goings on. I think it’s going to work. The public will believe it was solely the Fuhrer’s inner circle who staged a coup and attempted to kill him. The other military posts just so happened to be by for their training exercises and intervened.”

“Good,” Iroh says, leading the way up the battle torn street. Zuko remembers running through here chasing Gluttony, after discovering the Fifth Laboratory all that time ago. It doesn’t even look like the same place. Ash is pouring down like black snow. Windows and doors on every shop front are smashed. Wagons are left abandoned, horses either cut loose from them or else pulled themselves free in a fright at all the fire and fighting. He runs beside Sokka, his sword back in its scabbard on his back, Sokka with a pistol in each hand and his rifle across his back too. Mai has her knives and keeps Ty Lee between herself and Azula’s armored body for cover. 

“Briggs is taking no quarter,” Zuko says, low enough for only his uncle to hear. He sees Iroh’s face go grim. 

“I suspected Pakku may take it too far,” he sighs. So far, they’ve been able to make their way descently close to Central Command. At this rate, they may make it to the building without being stopped. 

Then again, Zuko thinks he just jinxes himself. 

He gets his by a wave of energy that knocks him and the rest of their group off their feet - except for Azula, who steadies her armor and absorbs the shock. Zuko dreads which remaining homunculus is going to be standing in front of them when he opens his eyes, but instead, he hears Sokka yell and run forward. 

“Sokka, no!” Zuko screams, heart in his throat. Sokka is a smart man despite his goodfiness so _what the fuck is he doing?_ Zuko follows Sokka’s footsteps and when he looks up lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You really thought he was dumb enough to run up to the enemy?” Toph laughs, tossing a rock into the air and catching it methodically. Sokka hugs Katara and kisses his sister all over her face, causing her to shove him away in faux disgust. Zuko looks down at his feet and sees an alkahestry symbol - a large circle with a star drawn inside of it, metal rods in each point. They must have stepped into a trap set by Katara to protect her group while waiting for the rest of Zuko’s group to catch up. Which means they must be right outside Central Command. 

“Is everything ready?” Zuko asks Aang as he comes forward. Aang nods. His clothes are torn and he has a bandage around his forehead, blood seeping through the fabric. He’ll have a wicked scar across the blue of his arrow tattoo at the end of all this. Toph looks alright, if a bit dustier than usual. Suki is slowly making her way over. She’s dragging something. 

It’s Sozin. 

“Fucker tried to run in ahead of us,” June says, eyes flashing red. She cackles, throwing Sozin at Zuko’s feet like a cat bringing its master a dead rat. “Don’t worry. We got him.”

“Um, thank you,” Zuko says. The last thing they need is Sozin running inside, half-cocked, to fight Father on his own. 

June winks at him and blows him a kiss. “No problem, kid. You’re the only ones who’ve tried to do anything against our Father, the bastard, in a long time. It’s the least I can do to make sure it goes smoothly.” 

Around them, fires rage. The sky is a light blue, the sun burning bright red on the horizon. Fuck, but it’s already sunrise. They need to find Father before noon, when the eclipse is set to occur.

“Does anyone have the time?” Zuko asks. Then he smacks himself in the forehead - with his automail hand, no less. “Never mind,” he says before anyone can point out his mistake to him. From inside his now-tattered, red jacket, Zuko pulls out his state alchemist’s pocket watch. It’s six in the morning. They have six hours to get to Father and at least two homunculi, Gluttony and Pride, unaccounted for. 

They turn toward the road to Central Command and start their march up on his uncle’s command. It’s only a minute in that Zuko realizes things are eerily quiet around here. That’s when he notices the bodies piled up on either side of the street. Some wear the Central Command forces uniform, black lined in red. Others wear the Western Command forces uniform, black lined in green. Zuko tenses, drawing his sword. It prompts Sokka to pull a pistol and cock it. Everyone draws closer in around him. They won’t know who’s taken Central Command until they get to the front gates which are steadily coming into view. It might not be their allies. 

Zuko looks at the large metal gates. There are barricades right outside and inside it. He can see snipers with rifles on the top of the large, stone building. But he can’t tell what uniforms they’re wearing. Uncle Iroh holds up a hand to stop them and they all halt before the first barricade. Iroh snaps and his gloves spark, allowing him to hold a ball of flame at the ready. Then he waits for their gate guardians to make the first move. 

There’s a snort and a chuckle, and General Bumi comes out from behind one of the barricades behind the gate. Iroh doesn’t douse his flame. 

“Now, now, Iroh. No need for that. Western forces have taken Central Command and held it, just like we needed to,” Bumi titters, hands up in a placating manner. 

“And the Fuhrer?” Iroh asks. Bumi still hasn’t ordered his soldiers to open the gate. 

“Hopefully dead in a ravine,” Bumi admits with a cackle. Zuko hears Azula scoff behind him. He rolls his eyes. 

Iroh narrows his. “And the dead Central soldiers in the streets?”

Now, Bumi’s face also falls grim. “Apparently Briggs soldiers are giving no quarter,” he growls, clearly upset at Pakku’s orders as well. Iroh holds his stance for a moment, Zuko clutching his sword tighter in his hand, brandishing his automail sword as well. But then his uncle sighs and douses his flame. Bumi nods and the gates open. 

“We can’t exactly fault him when the Central forces are killing his people,” Iroh mutters. “But we’re trying to be better than that.”

“You know Pakku never cared for public image,” Bumi cracks. He leads their group up the outer stairs and inside Central Command. In the main hall, there are rows of upper echelon, inner circle members of the military - their scapegoats, as it were. Zuko doesn’t feel too bad. Bumi goes to one man in particular and yanks the gag from his mouth. “Tell them what you told me.” He slams a gauntleted hand into the wall and turns the plaster to green-tinged crystal, yanking it from its place and holding it to the man’s face. “Or you’ll get to find out what this tastes like once it’s shoved into your face.”

“The-the Fuhrer and Father,” the man says. Even as Zuko blanches, he sees the four stars of a Major General on the man’s lapel. The inner circle really had been in on this from the start. “They promised us eternal life once the Doorway is opened! Join us! Join us and you too will-”

“That’s enough of that,” Bumi intones, knocking the man unconscious with the crystal in his hands. And then he bites a _chunk_ out of the stone, chewing it. 

“Ew!” Katara yelps, stepping back into Aang, who pulls her to his side with wide eyes away from Bumi. 

“It sounds like he’s crunching on … rock?” Toph says, tilting her head to the side so her ear is more fully pointed at Bumi. 

“It’s just rock candy!” the general cackles. He walks forward and puts a piece directly into Toph’s hand. She hums in pleased surprise and lifts the bit up to her mouth, but before she can put her tongue to it, Suki snatches it and shatters it against a wall. 

“Hey!” both Toph and Bumi squawk.

“You are _not_ eating that, Lady Beifong,” Suki says, glaring at General Bumi. Her eyes flash red. 

“Trust me, squirt,” June says, rubbing her knuckles against Toph’s scalp. “You don’t know where that shit’s been. And it wasn’t pretty.”

“He’s opening a Doorway,” Iroh tells Zuko, ignoring the goings on beside them. 

“The ultimate Doorway,” Zuko says. “The ultimate Doorway using human transmutation of a whole country to make the ultimate philosopher’s stone. To harness the power of the universe.” God, that’s so, _so_ bad. Father will take everyone down with him. It can’t work. The little that Zuko remembers of his time beyond the Doorway, with that white shadow of Truth, is too much for him to comprehend now. He doesn’t care that Father is a different kind of being. If there’s something out there that controls all of _this,_ whatever it is is too powerful for one being to control. They’ll all die just for Father to destroy himself and the world. 

It seems that Sokka has gotten into the battle for rock candy behind them. As he babbles on about his sister being mean and not letting him eat candy off the floor, Zuko contemplates what to do next. They know that there’s a way to Father’s underground lair through Central Command. They’ve been there before. They just have to get there and use the secret stairwell. 

“We need to get a move on,” Azula growls, coming up beside him. Sozin has come over with her. 

“The armored girl is correct. Once that eclipse starts, we’ll want to be as close to Father as possible. It will be ten minutes of sheer horror, and then he’ll be at his weakest when the eclipse starts to resolve and the reverse circle kicks in,” Sozin says. “You said you had a way into his lair below ground.”

“Through the Fuhrer’s office,” Zuko says, nodding. 

“Then let us be off,” Sozin says, turning and walking to the end of the hall with a flourish. 

“Does he remind you of dad?” Zuko asks Azula, watching him go. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Azula sighs. She turns to their bickering group. “We need to wrangle them. Can you whistle? It’s sort of hard to do when I have no lips.”

Zuko gives a dry chuckle at that, but doesn’t bother with the whistle. He goes to the group and sticks his sword into the fray. It gets everyone to freeze and settle down, which had been the point. 

“Listen, I love you, but that almost got me in the eye,” Sokka says. There’s a piece of floor candy in his mouth. Zuko sighs. 

“And then we could have matched,” he replies. 

“Oh, ha-ha.”

“C’mon, we’re heading up to the Fuhrer’s office. That’s where the nearest entrance to Father’s lair is,” Zuko tells them. Uncle Iroh has already made his way down the hall with Sozin and the rest of them follow. 

Mai is looking around the large building, at the portraits on the walls, the marble floors, the grand chandeliers above them. Zuko knows she’s trying not to gawk, but it is impressive. As they take a winding staircase up to the top floor where his father’s office is, Zuko sees that Ty Lee has no such misgivings. She’s scampering upstairs by running along the balustrade, quick and light on her feet, delighting in the tapestries and color everywhere, despite their current war-torn appearance. 

“I bet this place was something else when it wasn’t all banged up!” Ty Lee coos. She waits for them at the top of the stairs now, her tail twitching erratically in excitement. Mai gives her a soft smile and Zuko wonders if he looks like that when he thinks about Sokka. 

“I bet it was,” Mai replies, taking her hand as she reaches the top. Ty Lee grins at her. 

“It’s this way,” Zuko says, turning down the hall. It’s quiet up here, the explosions of the city so far below them. Sokka comes up beside him and bumps their shoulders together, winking at him. He’s got soot smeared on his face and his hair is falling out of its top-knot, but Sokka is still the most beautiful thing Zuko has ever seen. 

He’s going to marry this man when this is all over. If there’s nothing else to live for, there’s at least this. 

“Stop,” Bumi calls once they’re halfway down the hall that ends in the Fuhrer’s office. “Something’s wrong. I had men posted outside every doorway.” But the hall is desolate and empty and there are no bodies to be found. 

Zuko has his sword out, Sokka guns cocked. Azula claps her hands and they light with fire. Mai stands in front of Ty Lee, hands double-fisted with knives. Katara is in a similar stance in front of Aang, knives in her hands as well, but Zuko knows she’ll use hers for alkahestry before she stabs someone. Well, maybe. 

“There’s a homunculus in the room at the end of the hall,” June says, pointing to the Fuhrer’s office. Beside her, Toph growls. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” the young woman asks. “Lead the way, Sparky!”

“We do not yet know which homunculus is awaiting us,” Uncle says as they start to slowly creep down the hall. “Can you tell, Lady June?”

“No, I can’t,” June replies, flipping her hands into fans. “And knock it off with the ‘lady’ stuff. I’m not even technically this little brat’s bodyguard. That’s my meat-suit’s job.” And she grins as Toph huffs. 

“That’s gross,” Toph mutters. “Kinda cool though.”

“I can’t tell, either,” Sozin adds. Strangely, he has no weapons, and Zuko hasn’t seen him fight, so he doesn’t know how the man intends to defend himself. 

“Well, who's left?” Aang asks. “Realistically, we have limited options, right?”

“Gluttony ran off,” Sokka says. 

“No one’s heard from our father,” Azula adds. 

“And Pride is locked underground somewhere,” Katara finishes. “All the rest of the homunculi are gone, right?”

“Right,” Zuko confirms. They’re right outside the office. And then he kicks down the door, bracing himself. 

There’s blood everywhere, covering the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. The scent is heavy in the air, and Toph, with a more sensitive sense of smell, gags at the stench. Zuko is glad she can’t see the carnage. There are dead soldiers piled on either side of the large room, limbs thrown carelessly about after being detached from their bodies. Gluttony would have eaten them all. Pride wouldn’t have cared enough to be so brutal. Zuko knows which homunculus is awaiting them. 

From the Fuhrer’s desk in front of the window, the desk chair turns. And Ozai is sitting in it.

He looks _awful_. In the end, he’s a human body with homunculus capabilities. He’s fast and strong, but Zuko knows that to some extent, he’s not as hardy as the other homunculi that had their bodies made from a philosopher’s stone. Ozai is covered in blood, and at least half is his own. His long hair is disheveled and down and his eyes are wild. He’s also missing an arm. Stripped down to the waist from his military uniform, dripping with blood and open wounds that show the bone underneath his muscle, Ozai Sozin looks like he could still swallow the whole world, wriggling, raw, and desperate for escape. 

“My progeny have returned,” Ozai says, standing on bleeding legs. There’s a burning hatred in his eyes that honestly shakes Zuko down to his core. He watches Ozai’s eyes flit across their whole group, eventually landing on Sozin. The hatred burns brighter. _“You.”_

“Hello, Wrath,” Sozin says, sniffing in disdain. “How pitiful that a descendant of mine has fallen for the sweet whispers of that damned homunculus. Did you know that when I first met Father, he was just a little ball of darkness in a glass container? A dwarf in a flask, as it were. And now look, he’s changed his container and thinks he can put on airs. The gall.”

“You can’t stop him,” Ozai growls. Zuko can see the way his eyes move, over all their faces, calculating. There’s too many of them and not enough of him. He can’t succeed and he knows it. But Zuko doesn’t think that’s going to stop his father from causing as much damage as possible. As it is, Zuko wonders how much a dying man can do, realistically. Ozai’s skin has taken on the pallor of a corpse. He’s lost so much blood. It seems he doesn’t have the same healing factor as a natural homunculus. 

And Zuko doesn’t feel remorse or sadness when he thinks of his father dying. He just feels relief. For the first time in a very long time, the scar tissue around his damaged eye isn’t twitching. 

“We can try to stop him,” Iroh says, lowering his hands. 

“Uncle,” Zuko warns. His father is a wounded animal that _will_ bite on its way out. 

“Ozai, stand down. Make this easy for us. Die quietly, from your wounds. Don’t make us do it ourselves,” Iroh continues. 

“You come here, with my rotten heirs, our dysfunctional ancestor, a bunch of children, foreigners, and _vermin_ that should have been exterminated almost a decade ago?” Ozai roars. 

“Are we the foreigners?” Toph asks June. 

“Not me, squirt. But definitely you and Suks over here.”

“Don’t you _dare_ call my friend vermin!” Azula snaps. Her fiery eyes flare with rage. She stands in front of Aang, who Katara is pushing behind her own body to shield. “He and his people are better than we could _ever_ dream to be! You monster!”

“Oh, I’m the monster?” Ozai yells back, coming out from behind his desk. He staggers, eyes wide and crazed. “Rich, coming from the one who doesn’t even have a body anymore! Tell me, Azula, did you care so _little_ for life that you thought throwing your own away was worth it?”

It stings, even after all these years, even coming from someone who doesn’t know them or owe them anything. Zuko feels the hurt emanating from his sister. She roars and goes to attack, but that’s _exactly_ what Ozai wants, Zuko realizes. He looks down and sees that Ozai has a sword in his good hand. 

And he knows where Azula’s blood seal is. 

“Azula don’t!” Zuko yells, reaching for her. But she’s a hundred pounds of armor and he’s just flesh and bone. 

Before Ozai can slice right through Azula’s helmet and slash her blood seal, her tie to the human world, June appears and slices off Ozai’s other arm with her fan hands. Azula gasps as blood splashes across her chest plate and the Fuhrer flails, waving his stumps around madly. June laughs at the sight, not bothering to wipe the blood from her face. 

“That’s for killing my friends,” June says. Zuko remembers them, the chimera that ran around with June before she was trapped in Suki’s body. “And for taking me back to that god awful bastard you call a Father.” She slashes at Ozai again, slicing open his chest. “That’s for being a shit father to your own kids.” She slashes at his neck, right over the ouroboros tattoo and Ozai can’t even hold the skin together in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding because _he has no arms_ . “And that’s for daring to lay your hands on your son, never mind _burning_ him.”

Zuko feels something bloom behind his breast bone, warm and thankful. It’s gruesome to watch someone be hacked away like this, but he never had any attachment to this man. Not really. He had been too young to remember any goodness his father possessed. If it ever really had been there. 

June turns toward them, grinning wide with Suki’s teeth. It’s over. Or so they think until Ozai suddenly straightens up and with one last, herculean bout of strength, sinks his teeth into June’s neck before she has time to trigger her ultimate shield, and drags her with him toward the window behind his desk. She cries out.

“Suki!” Azula yells. 

“June!” Toph squeals along with her, head turning back and forth at the screams coming from her friend’s mouth. 

Iroh takes a step forward, but Ozai leans up against the already cracked glass of the window and growls like a wild animal. Even Bumi doesn’t look like he dares to mess with the Fuhrer as he is, his teeth locked around someone’s throat as his own blood pumps out of him. Zuko’s sick. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. His father is a wounded animal that _will_ bite on its way out. And he’s bitten alright. 

“Animal,” Sozin growls. But he doesn’t move, unsure of how to proceed. He doesn’t have an attachment to either of them, but he knows that everyone else does, at least to June and Suki.

“You bastard,”June says, scrabbling at Ozai’s teeth. It just makes him dig them in more. Zuko has no idea what to do. Do they risk killing Suki just to kill his father? If they lose someone, then what’s the point of it all? If they try something, Ozai can just drag them both through the cracked glass of the window and that’ll be the end. “You fucking bastard, Wrath!” she screeches. “Let her go! Let her go, you animal!” But all he does is dig his teeth in. When Zuko gets a look at his eyes, they don’t look human. They’re bright red and have no pupils. 

“Ozai! You don’t need to die in disgrace!” Iroh pleads. It occurs to Zuko that they still don’t know who killed Lu Ten. He doesn’t think it was his father, but he’s sure Ozai knows which homunculus is guilty. Though, as it is, most of them are dead, so he doesn’t see how much it really matters. “Let her go!”

“I really don’t think that’s going to work, Iroh,” Bumi mutters. “And for once, I don’t think trickery will be enough either.”

“Just get rid of them both and be done with it!” Sozin calls. They all ignore him. 

“Sokka,” Zuko mutters under his breath. “Do you think you can hit my father and miss Suki and June?” Zuko asks. But beside him, Sokka tenses. 

“Maybe,” he admits. “But he keeps moving, dragging them back and forth in front of the window. If I pull the trigger at the wrong moment and can’t anticipate his movements? I’m going to shoot Suki and June in the head.” Sokka shudders. “I can’t - Zuko, I can’t risk-”

“No, I know, it’s okay. That was stupid of me to ask,” Zuko tells him. Fuck. What the hell are they going to do?

“You’re all fucking crazy,” June says and Zuko blanches. What the hell? They’re trying to figure out how to save her ass and she’s calling _them_ nuts? “I possessed your friend and instead of trying to exorcise me, you befriended me too.” There are tears in her eyes, shimmering pink. “Fuck off, but you’re all a bunch of annoying brats.”

“What are you doing?” Azula yells, voice strangled and worried. There’s blood streaming down June’s neck, into her uniform. Some of it is hers, most of it is Ozai’s. Zuko can see how much Ozai’s teeth have sunk into the flesh of her neck. 

“I didn’t even have to ask,” June says. She’s crying now. “I didn’t even have to ask you to do that for me! But you did!” She screams and covers one fan hand with her ultimate shield, shoving it backwards and into Ozai’s face. He yells, letting go of her neck and instead, sinking his teeth into the hand, keeping it stuck there and putting all his weight onto the broken window glass. They all hear it creak and squeal as it cracks underneath the Fuhrer’s weight. “And that little royal brat always knew when it was me and when it was Suks. And she never messed up. She was happy to see _me, too!_ ”

“June!” Zuko yells, unsure of what the hell is going on. 

“He won’t let go of this,” June says, nodding to the fan hand stuck in Ozai’s face. It starts to glow red. “And I can’t live without a body. So, I’ll just go with him.” 

“No!” Katara yells. She shoves Aang back and away from the mess and throws her knives in the approximate shape of a star right by Ozai’s head. Slamming her hand down to the ground, Katara quickly pins a parchment with a star on it to the ground and ignites the first one. Half of Ozai’s head is blown away at the burst of energy across the room, but he refuses to let go of the fan hand. A chunk of glass falls from the window and Ozai is half leaning out, trying to drag June along with him. If she transfers her consciousness to Ozai’s body and he _dies…_ then she’ll die too. But it’ll save Suki. 

Zuko doesn’t want it to end like this, to have to choose between his friends. But June chooses for him. 

“Take care of the kid,” June says, nodding to Toph. Toph yells and launches herself to June, but Azula catches her around the waist and hauls her up against her chest plate. “Suks is always going on about protecting the heir to the Xingese throne.” She looks at Toph. “Take care of yourself, kid. Give ‘em hell.” Then she looks at Zuko. “And Fullmetal? Kick my Pops' ass.”

Zuko doesn’t even have time to agree. Once second, June is winking at him with her glowing red eyes, and the next, a bolt of red electricity is sparking down from Suki’s head, into the fan stuck in his father’s face. The fan hand detaches from Suki’s stump and the momentum is enough to push Ozai out the rest of the window. He hovers there for a moment and then plummets to the ground, that piece of metal still stuck in his face. Zuko swears he can hear June’s laughter on the way down. It ends with the crunch that comes when the Fuhrer’s body hits ground. 

Suki falls to the floor, right onto her bottom, and stares at the window. For a few moments, she’s disoriented, finally alone in her head after months of having company. And then she runs to the window, screaming. 

“June!” she yells, holding onto the glass with her remaining hand. If she had been flesh, she’d have cut herself up, she was holding the broken glass of the window so hard. “June! No, you stupid, stupid, homunculus - June!” 

“Well that was… dramatic…” Sozin mutters while Bumi snorts in derision at the immortal man. Iroh sits on the ground, staring at his hands. No son, no brother. All he has are his niece and nephew, and his daughter-in-law and granddaughter, somewhere in the city, hopefully safe. Toph is still trying to fight Azula, who sets her down so she can run to where she hears Suki crying and throw her arms around her. Zuko is glad that at least Toph didn’t have to see the way June went out. He’s going to be having nightmares about his father’s teeth ripping his own throat out if they get out of this alive. 

“Hey, so, is no one going to mention that someone is a princess?” Mai mutters to Ty Lee. 

“Mai!” Ty Lee hushes. “Her friend just died! Now is _so_ not the time.”

“No, wait,” Aang says, swallowing hard around tears Zuko can see him fighting if his glassy eyes and wobbly lip are anything to go by. “Toph is the heir to _what?”_

“Oh my goodness,” Katara mutters under her breath. _“Toph?”_

“You _lied_ to me?” Sokka calls. Toph turns around and glares with glassy eyes at them all. 

“So what?!” she yells, helping Suki stand on shaking legs. Suki stares at the broken window and Toph turns in the direction of their voices, her body angled slightly away from them. “So freaking what! My kingdom is the _last thing_ on my mind right now! Where’s Father? I want to see that bastard _gone.”_ She sniffles and wipes at her nose. The action is so _juvenile_ that Zuko gasps. It makes him remember that Toph, hell even _Aang_ , is only 15. She’s a kid. And yet, something so vital has just been taken away from her, has forced her to grow up so fast. 

“You didn’t know she was the heir to the Xingese throne?” Azula whispers. “What the hell, Zuko?”

“I’m sorry, did they ever say?” Zuko whispers back heatedly. Sokka is the only one close enough to hear them and he shakes his head, no. Apparently, Toph and Suki had never said anything to him either. 

“Well, no, they never said,” Azula replies as Suki and Toph slowly make their way back from the window. “But Suki wears the national seal on her robes and Toph’s gauntlets have them stamped onto the back. A little research would tell you that only the royal family members and their guards are allowed to use the national seal like that.”

“How do you know what the Xingese national seal looks like?” Zuko asks. 

“Did you _never_ look into the place your friends said they were from?” Azula gasps. She groans in frustration. “Why do I even _bother_ sometimes?” she huffs, and goes over to help Suki back to the group. With one hand gone, she’s at a disadvantage in combat. Somehow, Zuko doesn’t think that’s going to stop her. 

“Please, keep the identity of Lady Beifong a secret,” Suki says to the group, voice hoarse and sounding oh so small. 

“Yeah, sure. Secret’s safe with us, Your Ladyship,” Mai intones, snorting. Ty Lee bumps her with the side of her hips, then bops her on the head with the end of her tail. 

“We won’t tell anyone,” Aang promises for them all. “And we’ll help you keep her as safe as possible. It might be fun to be best friends with the Empress of Xing.”

“Who said I’m best friends with you?” Toph snipes back. She’s not all the way recovered, and maybe she’ll never be, but it’s something. She had spent more time with June than the rest of them, save Suki, since the homunculus had been sharing a body space with her bodyguard. Zuko can’t imagine what losing a friend like that would be like. He thinks about losing Mai or Aang, or even Suki herself like that, and immediately feels desolate. If they live through this, he’s definitely spending more time with Toph to try and fill in the loss. 

“Zuko,” Iroh calls and Zuko turns to the sound of his voice. He’s by the false door that leads to the staircase underground. Bumi and Sozin have helped him open it, and together, the two older men and the immortal standing in front of a square of pitch black darkness. A breeze wafts in from it, rustling the remaining papers on the Fuhrer’s desk, as well as the hair of some of the bodies by the door. 

“Right,” Zuko says. They have a job to do. This has already taken too much of their time. Over an hour and a half has passed since they entered the building. And yet… “Uncle, we can spare half an hour. Let us tend to Suki’s wounds, catch our breath. It’s no use going up against Father if we’re all only hanging on by a thread,” Zuko says. He may be their impromptu leader, but at the end of the day, they all take orders from Iroh. 

Thankfully, Iroh nods, and Bumi says, “Well, why didn’t you say so earlier? We wouldn’t have struggled to open this blasted door so soon.” He lets the entrance close, just for now, just while they gather themselves and take a moment to rest. Sozin snorts and walks away from them to pace the halls. 

Lust has been gone for quite some time. Envy has been diminished and spirited away by Father, perhaps reduced to that liquid philosopher’s stone substance and reabsorbed. Sloth has been frozen and shattered, destroyed. Wrath and Greed have gone out a window to be crushed into smithereens on the ground. Gluttony has run off and Pride still hasn’t been heard from.

Outside, the distant sounds of gunshots and explosions can be heard. Their men are fighting for their lives, for everyone’s lives. All because of one selfish, crazed being. But Zuko’s friends are tired and hurt, they need a moment, just a moment, to get back on their feet. They deserve at least that. 

Father can wait.

* * *

When they find Father, he’s sitting in the middle of his lair, all those tubes and wires around him. The center of the country, Zuko thinks to himself. The center of the circle, too. Father sits on the metal throne he’s made for himself, hunched over, with his head resting on a hand. Zuko is at the front of their group, with Iroh, Bumi, and Sozin flanking him to the sides and behind, and the rest of his friends behind them. Their entrance hadn’t been quiet, but Father doesn’t flinch. 

“Suki, Toph, Sozin - do you feel anything?” Zuko whispers. It’s dark, but something glows in the cistern and lights the space up on the edges. Probably the transmutation circle, gearing up to be activated. 

“All these beings feel the same,” Sozin growls. “I could be picking up on just Father, or every other homunculus in the area.”

“He’s not wrong,” Suki says. She clears her throat, her voice still hoarse. 

“What’s he doing?” Toph whispers to Aang. 

“He’s just… sitting there. He’s not doing anything at all,” Aang responds. 

“Little Nomads should keep their mouths _shut_ ,” Father spits venomously. Aang’s mouth shuts with a snap and clack of his teeth. 

“Stand up and fight us!” Zuko calls. He’s not ready, he’s _shaking_ , but he has the people he cares about the most with him. Azula stands behind him with Sozin, a steady presence at his back. She’ll always have his back, he knows. Even in this, even til the end. 

“It won’t be much of a fight, Fullmetal,” Father says. “I see you found _my_ father.”

“Don’t call me that, you wretch,” Sozin snarls. He makes to run past Zuko, but both Zuko and Iroh hold their arms out to stop him from passing the line their bodies make. Sozin growls but stays put. 

“Why do this?” Zuko says instead. “It won’t work. No being can harness the energy you’re trying to harness.”

“No one has _yet_ but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done,” Father responds. He hasn’t lifted his head from his hand. Zuko has a very bad feeling that Father is _waiting_ for something. And Zuko has no idea what. “I will open the ultimate Doorway and I will harness the energy of the universe. I will call god down and take that power. I will know the Truth - the _whole_ Truth, not whatever paltry scraps one gets by opening the Doorway through regular human transmutation.” Zuko’s stomach turns. This isn’t right. “I will force the All to answer to _me!”_ Aang had been right; Gyatso’s Ouroboros Theory is _exactly_ what Father is using to achieve this. It just comes at the cost of an entire country, and maybe, later, the entire world. 

But something Father has said about the Truth - it triggers a memory of Zuko’s time in the Doorway, the white shadow singing a stupid song, a riddle perhaps. How had it gone? _What is the Door to which there is no key? What is the Veil through which one might not see?_ He can’t remember more than that, though he knows there had been more. This, Zuko thinks, all the knowledge that he now has because he committed the Taboo. Perhaps _this_ is the key to a Door which should never have had a key: because the key was to transgress against your own soul. The lack of memory Zuko has over specifics? Perhaps that is the Veil, and they’ll never access it because they _shouldn’t_ have access to it. Humans will never do anything good with that kind of power. Father may be a homunculus, but the only example of living and life he had ever had had been from humans. And he still wants _more?_

“It doesn’t work like that!” Zuko shouts. “There’s no key to that Doorway that truly works - you just damn yourself and everyone else in the end. You can’t _contain_ what’s behind that veil and you’re not supposed to. That’s why it’s veiled!”

Father looks up and Zuko chokes and steps back against Azula’s armor in shock. Father’s eyes are blood red and glowing. 

“I don’t care,” Father growls. Then he stands.

The entire cistern starts to shake and spark with red electricity. Everyone goes rolling at the motion and Zuko ends up on the ground under some tubes with Toph to his left and Aang to his right. There’s a whoosh and suddenly, Zuko is pinned to the ground by the force of their upward movement. The entire cistern is elevated, like one of the fancy lifts they had installed in Central Command’s main building last year, but so much faster. Zuko pries his eyes open and it looks like they’re about to hit a ceiling, but a large red spark blasts the stone away and suddenly, he can see a huge chunk of sky. The sun is already well above them, glittering amidst the blue. 

“Is everyone okay?” Zuko yells, trying to untangle himself. 

“Are we outside?” Toph asks, transmuting a tube into stone, so she can crumble it to dust with her bare hands. She’s 15, Zuko reminds himself, to quell the intimidation that suddenly washes over him. 

“I think so,” Aang says, already on his feet and scouting around. They aren’t completely outside, not yet, but they’re in the destroyed center of the main Central Command building where they had first come in. There’s a giant hole in the ceiling, perfectly circular, and it lets a cone of light into the rubble filled remains of the structure. Zuko sees Azula stand, helping Katara up from where Azula had shielded her with her armored body. Sokka is helping Uncle Iroh dust off, and Mai and Ty Lee are lifting Suki up under her arms and dragging her to the remains of the staircase to check her neck wound. 

Father is standing in the center of the circle, staring down Sozin. 

“Sozin!” Zuko yells. “What are you doing?!” 

But Sozin doesn’t answer. He just stomps and waves his arms, and the movement transmutes a load of rubble into a metal fist that sends Father flying into a cracked wall. Zuko tries not to feel envious - of _course_ Sozin didn’t even need a transmutation circle to do alchemy. Hell, he didn’t even need to _clap_ like Zuko, Azula, and Jeong Jeong did. 

Father peels himself from the wall and launches his own attack at Sozin, flying in on a wave of stone under his feet, and launching at Sozin. The two seem like they’ll keep each other busy, so Zuko waves to his allies and they regroup by the stairs, away from the hole in the ceiling. Suki is awake and Katara has made it over to her, healing what she can with the limited amount of supplies she has brought. 

“You okay?” Zuko asks, coming up to Sokka. There’s blood dripping down the side of Sokka’s face, but he smiles despite this. 

“I am A-OK, sunshine,” Sokka replies, winking. Even through the fear and adrenaline, a rush of affection runs through Zuko at the sight. He throws his arms around Sokka and holds him for a moment. 

“I see. Now that you have a boyfriend, your sister is chopped liver,” Zuko hears Azula say behind him. He doesn’t stop hugging Sokka. 

“Maybe go check on _your_ girlfriend since her _throat_ was bitten into by _our_ father,” Zuko lobs back, face smushed against Sokka’s neck. 

“Oh, burn, Azula!” Toph laughs, and Mai snorts. Zuko pulls away from Sokka in time to hear Azula splutter and see her fiery eyes widen into flat discs of surprise. 

“This is _not_ the time brother!” Azula finally snaps and Zuko can feel the embarrassment rolling off her in waves. “We’re in the middle of a battle!”

“Actually, I think _Sozin_ is in the middle of a battle,” Aang says, his grin wide and _definitely_ shit-eating. He waves a hand over to the center of the room where the ground level of the cistern now sits, held there by Father’s power and lit up by the morning sunshine. Sozin is standing, heaving in breaths and bleeding, but then again, so is Father. “So, I think we’re good to-”

“Wait,” Iroh says, standing from where he had been sitting on the stairs where Sokka had deposited him. “Wait. Where’s General Bumi?”

Zuko feels his gut twist and he turns, looking around frantically. There’s no sign of Bumi amid the rubble, not that Zuko can see, anyway. At that moment, Sozin goes flying into a wall, taking it down with him. He doesn’t get back up. Zuko shouts for the man and then stops, feels a tingling sensation in his stomach and looks down. And screams. 

There’s a great, big, red eye opening up from his stomach. 

Zuko hears Azula scream and she has one opening up on her chest plate. From what Zuko can see of Sozin’s body, he has one as well. Zuko scrabbles at it with his hands, but they just pass through it as though it doesn’t exist. 

From the center of the room, Father yells, “Pride! Take them now!”

“Pride?” Zuko yells, and from the shadow cast by the stairs, Pride appears, melting out of the darkness. Wrapped up tight with tendrils of shadows around his body and mouth, rendering him incapable of screaming, is General Bumi. “No!” Zuko shouts, but then everything is dark and the last thing he sees is Pride’s smiling face and hideous sideburns.

* * *

Zuko wakes up, bound, and laying in a circle. His hands and feet are tied together and the most he can do is sit up. They’re still in the Central Command building, but there’s less light, and when Zuko looks up to the great hole in the ceiling, he sees why. The eclipse has already started. 

“Shit,” he murmurs, looking around. In the main circle form the cistern, Azula is sitting up in a circle like his, also tied up. Across from her is Sozin, in a similar situation, face covered in his own blood. Across from Zuko is their uncle, a bandage wrapped around his eyes. And to Zuko’s left is Jeong Jeong. “Master Jeong Jeong? What are you doing here?”

Jeong Jeong turns to him, face covered in soot, and says, “A great, big eye opened up on my abdomen and then I awoke here.” 

“We’re sacrifices for this, remember dumb-dumb?” Azula calls to him. Her voice is tight with so much bottled-up fury. “We were right; Father wanted people who had committed the Taboo.”

“Sozin, I understand. A version of the Taboo is what created Father and made Sozin some kind of human homunculus. But Uncle has never committed the Taboo - so why is he here?” Zuko asks. 

“Damn-it,” Azula growls, and Zuko can feel the tears falling down her face somewhere in that white beyond, the white shadow of Truth looking on with that frozen smile on its face. 

“Azula, why is Uncle in the circle?” Zuko yells. “And where is everyone else?”

“Pride locked them all in a room down one of these halls,” Azula says. “And Uncle… Pride he - he…”

“I have committed the Taboo,” Iroh calls to him from across the circle. Zuko’s eyes bulge. 

“What?” he gasps. No, no, Uncle would _never_ not even for his own _son_ who was taken from him. “No, Uncle. _No!_ I know you, you wouldn’t _do that_ , not ever!”

“No,” Iroh concedes. “No, I wouldn’t.”

That makes no sense. “Then how…?”

“Oh, I made him,” comes that slimy voice from the shadows. Zuko turns and sees Pride, supported on tendrils of shadow like a giant spider. “I held him down and Father triggered the transmutation circle with him inside and a random dead body from one of these soldiers.” He waves a shadow tentacle around carelessly to indicate one of the many bodies around them. “And then the Truth took his eyes. Ironic, isn’t it? Those eyes, always seeing what no one else did, looking forward to a brighter, better future for this country.” Pride scoffs. “Makes me sick.”

“That’s - that’s cheating!” Zuko screams. It’s juvenile and doesn’t matter, but it’s also true. How could this be _allowed?_ Didn’t the Truth or god or even the _universe_ care about justice? “Ugh, how are you even here?”

“Yes, I do believe we trapped you,” Sozin adds from his spot in the circle.

“I dug my way out eventually,” Pride cackles. “A bit pedestrian, I know. But I made it just in time.” He scuttles over on those shadow legs, skirting the direct light. “Then Father gave me Gluttony and Envy as a snack - so I could grow stronger. And here I stand.”

Zuko unintentionally gags at the thought. “That's _disgusting.”_

“Homunculi engage in cannibalism - who knew?” Azula seethes. 

“Unsurprising, given their nature,” Jeong Jeong throws in with disdain. Pride snaps. 

“Given our _nature?”_ he growls, scuttling right up behind Jeong Jeong. “Who is trapped in a web and who has woven it, alchemist? What is it they called you - the Strategy Alchemist? Not because you had mastered any one form, but because you could execute any of them with the best laid strategy and still prevail.” Pride’s shadows lower his body to the floor and he sucks them back into his body. Then he walks over and shoves his face very close to Jeong Jeong’s. “Who’s nature has prevailed, human? Who is the superior being now?”

“We are,” Iroh answers from across the circle. “Because we can still produce something of value. Humans made homunculi. We created and mastered alchemy and alkahestry. And what have the homunculi done?” he sneers. “All you’ve wrought is destruction. And there is no true value in that.”

“Shut up, you fat, old man!” Pride snaps, hands balled into fists at his sides. “Killing your son wasn’t enough, was it? But you’ll learn.” Zuko, Azula, and Iroh all gasp as one. 

_“You_ killed cousin Lu Ten?” Azula grits out in quiet fury. Zuko watches Iroh struggle with the knowledge. Zuko himself tries to launch himself at Pride, but he can’t leave his own circle and howls in fury instead. This monster took their cousin? He had to pay. After all this, he had to pay.

“Oh, you’ll all learn,” Pride continues. “Just like that _boy_ did. You’ll learn once Father holds the power of the universe!”

They say if you speak of the devil he shall appear, and it seems the same can be said for Father - if both beings are not one and the same. Upon Pride’s utterance, the being himself strides into the hall, dragging something behind him. He throws the bundle to the side and Zuko sees that it’s their friends, all chained together in a line like slaves. He locks eyes with Sokka, a gag in the young man’s mouth, and Sokka’s eyes fill with tears. 

And Zuko can’t _do_ anything. He’s stuck, tied up, and sitting in a circle to be used as a sacrifice and his friends and family are just chained up and suffering. This monster of a homunculus has just admitted to murdering his cousin and Zuko can’t even avenge him - good and kind Lu Ten, always willing to help and doing just that when he was taken from them. Zuko yells, struggling against his bonds in desperation, but he knows it won’t do any good. All he can do now is wait and hope that Aang was right about the reverse transmutation circle. He’s been reduced to this: a man relying on the theories of a dead monk to save them all. He feels powerless. 

Above them, the sky goes dark. Zuko lifts his head and witnesses the moon slot into place over the sun. Somewhere, far out in the cosmos, Zuko knows the planets are aligned, with Saturn like a crowned jewel at the end of the line. 

Father walks into the center of the circle. 

“I want you to see the souls leave their bodies, Fullmetal,” Father says, pointing to his friends in the corner of the room. Katara and Aang are huddled together by Sokka. Bumi is being supported by Mai and Ty Lee. Suki has her arms around Toph, who refuses to look away from the glaring spectacle she knows is in the sky and keeps muttering that she _can't’ see anything anyway, what’s the sun going to do? Blind me again?_

Father claps his hands in a mockery of how Zuko needs to catalyze a transmutation, hands staying together as he drops to his knees. Sokka once told Zuko it always looks like he’s praying whenever he transmutes something by clapping his hands together. He looks to Sokka again, who hasn’t looked away from Zuko, and ignores everything else as Father slams his hands to the ground. 

The earth shakes and the building around them sways and crumbles. Zuko feels himself float up into the air, his fellow sacrifices doing the same, and his gaze is ripped from Sokka’s. Something pulls in his chest, and a stream of light shoots out from him and into Father’s awaiting body below. The five of them continue to give off light and Father sucks it up until a new beam of light shoots up from his body and into the sky. Right into the eclipsed sun. 

Everything glows red as the transmutation circle is triggered. 

Zuko struggles to look down and see his friends, then wishes he hadn’t once he finally succeeds. They all wilt in unison, skin going ashen as great red orbs are torn from their bodies - their _souls_ . Watching Sokka deflate with his eyes stuck open in horror is going to haunt Zuko for the rest of his life, no matter how short it is. He screams, forgetting for the moment that Sozin had warned them it would be far worse before the reverse transmutation circle kicked in. It doesn’t matter. The man he’s been in love with since he was a child is _gone,_ for all intents and purposes, and his soul is being used to commit a sin against the very fabric of reality. 

All around them, red orbs of souls from all across Amestris come rushing in and into Father. They fuel the beam of light he projects upward, making him stronger. Zuko struggles with all his might but he can’t fight it, all he can do is watch as above them, a large rectangle of darkness grows and grows, until it opens like a Doorway. Zuko wishes he were unconscious for the next part. Because another giant eye, this one grey in color, like the eyes of the dead, opens up in the sun, in the Doorway. And something large and shapeless, at once humanoid and a blobbed shape, comes crawling out on all fours, if it even has legs, or arms, or spindly appendages at all. 

“You will obey me!” Father yells through it all. And the being cracks its head around in a full circle, like something demonic, and then slithers into Father’s open mouth, sucked in by the fury of the light beam. 

Zuko falls to the ground hard, landing on his automail leg with a crunch. The force of whatever the hell just happened has disintegrated his bonds, so he rubs his flesh and bone wrist and slowly stands up. The light beam is gone. Father stands in the middle of the room, his whole body steaming, hunched over and heaving. Zuko watches Azula stand on unsteady feet, Iroh, Sozin, and Jeong Jeong doing the same. 

Zuko runs over to their friends, collapsing to his knees beside the pile of their bodies. He lifts Sokka up into his arms and holds him close, shaking. There’s nothing - no breathing, no heartbeat, just large vacant eyes staring up at the eclipsed son. 

“This better work, Sozin,” Zuko whispers, hurting so much he can’t even cry. “This better work or I’m going to kill you _myself_ with my bare hands, no alchemy needed.”

“Brother…” Azula says, having come up behind him. He feels her gaze shift to Suki and Toph, move to Mai and Ty Lee, and end on Aang and Katara. Bumi is face down on the ground. Azula gasps. Then growls. Zuko gently lays Sokka back down on the ground with shaking hands and closes his eyes. This is what they’re fighting for. For better or for worse, they will get these people back. 

He turns, an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach that’s a mix of rage, grief, and injustice. But not despair. Zuko is done despairing. He’s done it all his life and for what? No, this time, he’s going to _do something about it_. 

“Father!” he yells. And then he charges. Zuko pulls his sword from its scabbard and throws it like a spear. It lands right in Father’s back. And then gets _absorbed_ into him. Father straightens up and turns. He’s vibrating with power and energy, looks decades younger, younger even than Sozin who’s been frozen in time as a middle-aged man, and he _cackles._

“You have no _idea_ ,” Father says. He looks like a shade as he moves, afterimages of himself lingering in the light while his physical body is strides ahead. Zuko doesn’t even see him when he punches Zuko, just goes flying after feeling a fist strike his face. Azula starts transmuting and fighting, a bit sturdier and able to hold her own as a suit of armor. Across the way, Iroh and Jeong Jeong have teamed up, Jeong Jeong telling Iroh where to send licks of flame and being his eyes, while Iroh awkwardly claps before he snaps his fingers, able to transmute without a circle now. Sozin teams up with Azula, sending his own volley of carnage every time Azula gets knocked away so that someone is always attacking Father and keeps his gaze off Iroh and Jeong Jeong. 

_Just long enough for the eclipse to resolve,_ Zuko thinks, standing up. He spares Sokka’s limp body and those of their friends one last look, and then charges in, transmuting himself another sword from ground. 

He’s promptly reeled back by a shadow around his waist. 

“Pride!” he screams. “Let me go, you coward!” As much as Zuko wants to rip Pride to smithereens for killing Lu Ten, right now he can admit that stopping Father is the priority. So Pride needs to _fuck off_ just for now, just until the reverse circle kicks in.

“It’s not cowardice if it’s just fighting smart. Let Father kill the rest of them - they can’t stop him. In another minute, the eclipse will be complete and Father will start taking over the world.” Pride flings Zuko into a wall and it collapses with him. Everything hurts and goes dark for a moment, but then Zuko is fighting his way out of the rubble and using it to transmute a volley of lead at Pride’s face. 

Zuko takes a moment to look over to Father and the others. Even though he’s filled to the brim with glowing red power, Zuko can see how Father’s entire body shakes. There’s _something_ inside him, and even now Father is just barely containing it with all the souls of Amestris. They’ve turned _Father_ into the ultimate stone just so he can control this unattainable power. And still, patches of his skin burn away, though they are quickly healed with red sparks. Zuko wonders what happens if that powerful being is removed, if Father loses all those extra souls. Will Father’s body be able to keep up with healing its own destruction?

“Just a minute left?” Zuko says, dodging Pride’s next attack. He runs toward the light, trying to lead Pride toward it. Maybe he can lose some of his shadows. “I think we can manage that!”

Pride laughs and launches something else and Zuko dodges, wondering how long he can keep this up. They have maybe another forty-five seconds left. If Pride wants to be Zuko’s target, then fine. Zuko will get what revenge for Lu Ten that he can in the time they have left. After that, all bets are off and he’ll have done what he can. 

Pride isn’t as stupid as Zuko wishes he were, and the homunculus avoids the direct light - any light directly overhead wouldn’t allow him to cast a shadow, after all. Instead, he uses his shadow tendrils to fling pieces of concrete and metal at Zuko, while he uses his words to fling obscenities. 

“Your cousin _begged_ for his life, Fullmetal. Like a coward! Like a little sheep! He bleated for me to spare him!” Pride taunts, cackling. HIs eyes light up bright red and Zuko yells. 

“Shut up, you liar!” Zuko flings his free sword and it lands smack in the middle of Pride’s chest. The homunculus looks down at it and laughs before his shadow arms pull it out and snap the blade in half. That’s alright - Zuko has alchemy on his side. It’s the one thing he’s always had when he hasn’t had anything else. Zuko claps his hands together, screaming and fighting tears. A few more seconds. He has to deal with Pride for just a few more seconds. And then the tide will turn. It has to. At least Uncle doesn’t have to hear the shit Pride is saying about Lu Ten. 

“And when it was all over, what did he have to show for it? A piece of paper for you lot?” Pride continues to taunt, dodging Zuko’s flying pieces of rock.

 _Ten more seconds,_ Zuko thinks. 

“Well, that piece of paper led us to all this! That piece of paper got us to where we are now!” Zuko yells. 

“And where is that?” Pride asks, cackling. 

Behind them, Father has bashed Sozin and Uncle into the far wall, Jeong Jeong sprawled to the side, and Azula is all that stands between him and the door to the outside world. Zuko sees her, feels her fear and her anger, her desire to stand and fight and do everything she can. He looks over to their pile of friends and looks at Sokka’s face, his eyes forced closed. 

Zuko looks up at the eclipsed sun.

“Where is that?” Zuko repeats. He laughs, incredulous. “Right where we want to be.”

And the shadow over the sun starts to move out ever so slowly. 

“What are you laughing at?” Pride sneers, raising his shadow tendrils to attack Zuko again. “You stupid - _Father?”_

Zuko turns around just in time to see Father fall to his knees, heaving. His whole body is steaming again. Azula has taken several steps back and Jeong Joeng helps Iroh to his feet several feet away from them, as Sozin lumbers to his feet from being thrown. Father claws at his throat, gasping and choking, spit and bile dripping from his mouth. A shadowy hand punches its way from his mouth, spidery fingers gripping his teeth and prying his jaw open from the inside. A large eye pushes its way out from between his teeth. It’s grotesque. 

“The reverse circle!” Sozin yells across the way. He points up to the sky. Zuko looks back up. 

The sky is lit up now with the version of the reverse transmutation circle that Gyatso had in his book, written in glowing white light. Each of the pentacles and stars burn in the clouds. That great Doorway is there again, when Zuko looks back down to Father, who has fallen onto his back and is clawing at the ground, the being from the sky is forcing its way back out. It reaches up to the Doorway, which welcomes it with open doors, and slowly gets sucked back up into it as the shadow passes out of the wake of the sun. 

“No!” Pride cries, stepping forward and into the sun. It burns him, but Pride keeps walking forward, his shadows going up into wisps of smoke, as Father writhes on the ground. Slowly, and then with blinding speed, the red orbs of people’s souls levitate out of his mouth in a roaring river. They fly out into the air and whip back out into the city, and the rest of the country, Zuko presumes. A cloud of them swarm over their friends for a moment, and then Toph coughs, gags, and sits up ramrod straight, hands to her throat. 

“Lady-lady Beifong,” Suki croaks, struggling to sit up beside her. 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Toph says, patting down her whole body. “Holy _fuck.”_

“Toph!” Zuko calls. He looks over and Pride is now dragging his burning body over to Father’s, souls still flying out of it and to their rightful owners. The great Doorway in the sky is gone when Zuko looks up, and the sun is almost completely free of the shadow of the moon. Azula is already running over to them, Iroh led by Jeong Jeong slowly following. Sozin stands and watches Father scream as the souls, and more importantly the _power,_ leave him. Pride crawls up right beside Father and clutches him. 

“Are you alright?” Zuko hears Mai say as she sits Ty Lee up beside her. Ty Lee shivers, her tail coiled up tightly against her body, but she nods. Iroh sits Bumi up carefully and Jeong Jeong leans him against a wall. Aang takes a moment to blink back awake, but the next is spent easing Katara up. Outside, Zuko can hear the gunfire and explosions start back up. They aren’t out of the woods yet. But this is worth taking a moment for. 

“Sokka!” Zuko cries, sliding to his knees and right by his boyfriend, who’s just now rolling onto his knees and retching. 

“Ne-never, never again,” Sokka coughs, wiping his mouth. Zuko laughs hysterically, tears blurring his vision as he wraps Sokka in a hug and pulls him close. It feels so good just to feel the other man’s breath against his skin, to feel the warmth of his skin. Zuko chokes on his tears and holds Sokka even tighter. “That was too freaky,” Sokka murmurs. “There was nothing there… but I could still hear you.” Zuko pulls back and looks into Sokka’s eyes. 

“You big baby!” Toph yells, running past them and sparing a moment to thunk Sokka on the back of the head. Sokka splutters and Zuko laughs. “Let’s go fight!” 

Zuko turns, just in time to see Pride squeal as Father sits upright and catches him by the throat. He puts his face right to Pride’s and _slurps him up_ , sucking the homunculus back into his own body. Sokka clings to Zuko tighter, watching Father reabsorb Pride in horror. 

“Let’s go!” Suki yells, already behind Toph, even with one hand. Around them, their friends stand. Katara is swaying on her feet, Aang steadying her. Even Mai and Ty Lee have their hands raised, ready to fight. Zuko stands and offers Sokka a hand up. He squeezes it. 

“You got a gun?” he asks. 

“Always,” Sokka says, pulling a pistol from his waistband. It’s a miracle the damn thing didn’t go off at some point and shoot Sokka in the ass. Literally. 

“It’ll have to do,” Zuko says, and runs over with the rest of them. 

“He’s running out into the street!” Sozin yells, Iroh led by Jeong Jeong on his tail. Bumi is left behind, dazed, too unwell to follow. 

“We can’t let that abomination out of the city,” Sozin growls as they all chase Father out of Central Command’s main building. Bumi has barricades out there, but there’s no telling if the soldiers all survived the ordeal or if they’ve been attacked by a comeback from Central forces. 

The sun is brighter outside than it had been coming in through the hole in the ceiling from inside the building. Zuko’s eyes take a moment to adjust, but once he blinks away the spots, he catches sight of Father engaged in combat with Western forces that have regained consciousness. Father is faltering, Zuko can see it, but he’s still stronger than a regular man with a gun. But what about 20 men? 50? Western forces swarm the failed homunculus and though he’s able to shake them off, his limbs are quaking and his skin is sloughing off. 

“What the hell is _wrong_ with him?” Azula cries. 

“What, what’s wrong?” Toph asks. 

“He’s melting!” Katara gasps in disgust. 

“Oh that’s _awesome!”_

“Toph!” Sokka cries. “Gross!”

“The souls left him. The power left him. But they were more than he could contain - they left damage too,” Sozin says. He looks at Zuko. “Now, Fullmetal! We end this _now!”_

Zuko nods. “Then let’s go!” He claps his hands together and snaps, sending a blast of flame Father. The homunculus turns and barely swipes at it with a hand. The appendage catches fire and he howls. “Get him!” Zuko cries, waving for everyone to go. Suki hops in at close quarters and slashes his skin before hopping away. Together with Sozin, Toph launches chunks of stone and metal spheres at Father. Iroh sets off the flare to alert Ming and their extra forces to come to their aid, then allows Jeong Jeong to direct his snaps of flame at Father. Jeong Jeong uses his own alchemy to protect them both from the lashback Father directs at them. It’s there, but it’s slowing and losing intensity. 

From a safe distance, Sokka shoots and Mai throws her knives, pulling her favorite back to her on its lead. Ty Lee scampers about, looking for rubble to launch and using her tail to send it flying at Father. There’s so much going on from all directions that Zuko barely notices it when Azula staggers, unable to call for him. She reaches out and then the light goes out in her eyes. She falls to the ground, a heap of armor parts. 

“Azula!” Zuko yells. He turns to go to her, but then Sokka tackles him out of the way of a blast of red energy from Father. 

“We’ll protect her!” Katara yells. She rushes over to Azula’s armor with Aang and a few Western Command soldiers, forming a protective circle around her. Zuko’s stomach clenches. He doesn’t just want to leave his sister’s safety to someone else, but he has a homunculus to wipe from existence and besides, he _trusts_ Katara and Aang. 

“Okay!” Zuko yells back, though reluctantly. Sokka rolls them behind one of the barricades. 

“Katara won’t let anything happen to her,” Sokka says earnestly. 

“I know,” Zuko concedes. “C’mon. Let’s go.” Sokka nods, grabbing a discarded gun from one of the soldiers, and tossing his empty pistol to the side. They get up and run back into the fray. 

“What have you _done_ Sozin?” Father is yelling. He sends a shockwave of red energy at Sozin and Toph. Sozin groans and swipes Toph up into his arms, dodging the wave with her. “What have you _done_ , you blasted meddler?!” Zuko catches sight of Father’s face and blanches. THe skin has melted completely off and he’s just a skull with white hair and burning red eyes. It is, quite frankly, _terrifying_. 

“Oh, you thought you could use an entire _country_ as a circle and no one would pick up on it? Best of all, it was a _Nomad_. I never did understand why you despised them so,” Sozin taunts. He takes Toph and literally throws her at Suki, knocking the two of them to the ground. 

“Hey!” Toph yells, standing up and dusting herself off. She stomps in irritation. “No bowling the next empress of Xing!”

“They were free fodder!” Father yells, sending another blast of energy at him. Iroh gets a blast of flame at him and Mai lands a knife right into an open wound on Father’s shoulder. She yanks the knife back by the lead and it slices into Father’s arm, severing half of it from his body so that it hangs limply at his side. 

“We need to help them!” Zuko says. He transmutes another sword from the earth and launches it at Father, striking his blistering body right through the ribs. “Hey! We helped too! We took away any power you might have had. And now we’re going to _end you!”_

 _“You!”_ Father growls turning on Zuko with those burning eyes. Zuko feels his stomach drop. Father _does not_ look happy. “You _stupid, meddling_ boy.” Father starts to stalk toward Zuko, ignoring the barrage of attacks coming from everyone around him. He walks, step by step, to Zuko, who doesn’t really have anywhere to run to. Everywhere is blocked in by barricades or people fighting, and Father is coming right for him. “If you hadn’t stuck your little nose into someone else’s business this _never_ would have happened,” Father continues. He roars and sends a mighty blast of energy at Zuko. It’s all Zuko has time for, pushing Sokka out of the way so the blast falls squarely on himself. Sokka goes sprawling to the left and Zuko gets blasted back into the barricade that had been hiding behind. He feels his automail arm completely shatter on impact, his nerves and mouth screaming. His flesh and blood arm gets impaled on one of the metal rods sticking out of the cement block of the barricade and a new wave of pain hits him as it passes through the meat of his arm. 

“Zuko!” Sokka yells, his voice cracking. He lifts the rifle he had picked up and pulls the trigger, but there’s a reason it had been abandoned - it’s fresh out of bullets. “Zuko, no!” Sokka screams. Zuko turns to him and sees the fear and despair in his wide, blood-shot eyes. Can’t they just get a fucking break? When he looks back, Father is a foot away, calling on a massive blast of energy. Zuko tugs and tugs, but his arm hurts too much to yank out of the iron rod lodged in it. 

They’re all trying, he’ll give them that, even Sozin. Iroh and Jeong Jeong are throwing all they’ve got in Zuko’s direction. Toph is trying to grab at Father with a stone hand, but Father is using the last of his energy to push them all away. A knife goes flying from Mai, rubble from Ty Lee, bullets from the remaining Western Command soldiers. He even recognizes Suki’s remaining fan hand lodge into Father’s back, but the homunculus doesn’t care. He’s really out for Zuko. 

“This is the end of you, Fullmetal Alchemist!” Father cries, an arc of red light glowing around him. 

At least he gets to die with everyone he loves around him. If someone had asked Zuko where he thought the next year would lead him, this wouldn’t have been his answer. But even though he’s screaming mere feet away, Zuko did get to see the man he loved and tell him of his affections. His friends, though screaming and crying and trying to save him, all got to meet each other and become friendly themselves. His sister may not have gotten her body back like he promised, but she’s alive and that much closer to finding the answer to that particular riddle. It’s not perfect, but it’s something. And maybe a good ending comes to them all but only with Zuko’s sacrifice. 

Zuko is okay with that. 

And then he hears, “Brother, I’m sorry,” and there are five of Katara’s alkahestry rods formed to make a star right near his missing arm. A flash of light, _a lot_ of pain, and the next time Zuko’s ears stop ringing, he has his arm back. 

His _real, live_ arm. The one he had taken from him for Azula’s soul almost seven years ago now. 

The one he traded for Azula’s soul. And if he had the arm back, then Azula’s soul…

Zuko looks past Father, momentarily blinded by the light of Zuko’s arm returning. Katara is kneeling by Azula’s armor, face buried in her hands, sobbing. Aang is crying too, arms wrapped around her. 

“No,” Zuko murmurs, looking at his arm. It’s thin, the nails overgrown and brittle. It’s even a shade or two lighter than the rest of his skin, having been away from the sun for so long. But it's his arm. Zuko has his arm back. 

And Azula’s soul is gone. 

_“No!”_ Zuko screams. No, that’s his _baby sister_. He gave this arm willingly to get her back, to have her back with him so she wouldn’t have to suffer in the cold, white nothingness of the Beyond all alone. Now, she’s gone again, willinging giving her soul back for him to get his own arm and win this fight for them. Zuko isn’t going to leave her alone in that Beyond. He didn’t before and he isn't going to do it this time either. 

He refocuses on Father, back to trying to blast Zuko to smithereens and screams, “Where the _fuck_ is my sister?” as though Father would know. He doesn’t even bother looking at the expression on Father’s face at the question. Zuko just reels his new arm back and punches Father so hard in that bony, skull face of his that the bone snaps to the side and Father goes sprawling, his red arc of light sputtering out. Zuko hops onto him and screams, _“Where is she?”_ as he punches Father in the face, absolutely _pummels_ him. Zuko screams and screams, not knowing what else to do. He just wants his sister back. He just wants her back. 

Father blasts him off with a spark of energy and tries to crawl away but Zuko isn’t done. He claps his hands and, much like he did with Lust all that time ago, sets Father alight. He doesn’t wait for Father to regenerate, he just keeps spewing more fire, like liquid flame from his fingertips. Jeong Jeong directs Iroh to the same spot and his uncle does the same, Jeong Jeong following suit. Sozin snorts and brings a rush of fire onto Father as well. Toph focuses all her energy on and sends whatever tendrils of flame she can muster in the same direction, following their pull of power. The others merely stand back and watch until Father stops screaming. And then he stops thrashing. And then he doesn’t move at all. 

Eventually, everyone but Zuko stops spewing flame. Zuko is still screaming, but then Sokka hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder and Zuko’s flame cuts off abruptly. His new arm is shaking at the strain and Zuko looks at it again, at the same time so foreign as it is familiar to him. There are scars up near his shoulder still from where Sokka’s port for his automail had been, but even that’s gone, bits of bolt still fused to Zuko’s skin. 

As Father burns away to ash that floats away on the wind, Azula remains gone. 

In the pile, there remains but one tiny, shiny philosopher’s stone. Zuko picks it up. It has barely a use left, he surmises. Father had been just like the other homunculi, in the end. A meat-suit with a heart fueled by a philosopher’s stone. _Fake. False_. Not quite human.

“This can fix Uncle’s eyes,” Zuko says, thrusting the stone into Sokka’s hands. A philosopher’s stone could heal anything, fix anything. But it wouldn’t bring Azula back, because they had played by different rules. It always came down to that, didn’t it? What rules had been broken, what agreements had been honored. Zuko ignores Sokka calling his name, pushes past everyone trying to talk to him, congratulate him, ask him _what now_ , and stops in front of Azula’s armor, Katara still sobbing beside him. Aang just holds her now. “What - what happened?” He drops to his knees and puts a hand on Azula’s chest plate. But there’s no spark of life inside. It’s really just a suit of armor now. “My sister… Katara, what…” The grief hits him in a wave and Zuko feels so, so ill. 

“I’m sorry, Zuko,” Katara cries. She wipes her face with shaking hands. Katara is Azula’s age, Zuko thinks distantly. His sister had been robbed of living in the world like this. And now she’s been robbed of living in the world at all. “She was my friend and she asked me to help her and I - she _begged me_ when she woke up and saw you without your arm, Zuko. I’m _sorry_.”

It’s not Katara’s fault though. He knows it’s not her fault and he can’t even blame her for this. 

“I don’t blame you,” he whispers. 

“She said - she said you gave your arm up for her soul, so she would give her soul back for your arm. She’d switch them back, put things back to normal,” Katra continues. “She made the transmutation circle and had me connect it to you with an alkahestry star. And then she - she clapped her and she was - was…”

“Gone,” Zuko finishes, looking at the circle his sister had hastily scrawled in some soldier's blood. Unlucky bastard, to die on the battlefield and be used as someone’s paint. She could have transmuted herself, but she needed the circle for Katara, to get Katara’s help in using alkahestry. Only alkahestry could connect two transmutation circles so far apart - alchemy didn’t have that kind of range. 

“She said you would come for her. That you’d figure out something to exchange for her whole body and soul. She said you had the right idea when you told Sozin that there are some doors we aren’t meant to open, that some keys don’t really exist, and that there’s a reason we can’t see past some veils.”

“We aren’t meant to,” Zuko completes, staring at the circle. “You said she told you she’d _give back_ her soul and put things back to normal?” Zuko asks. 

“Yes,” Katara confirms, hiccuping. 

“Zuko?” Sokka softly calls, coming up behind him. 

“She _gave it back_ ,” Zuko mutters. “And I got my arm back. So to get her back… to get _all_ of her back… I just… I just have to give something back. Something I shouldn’t have had in the first place. The reason I lost her in the first place,” Zuko mutters. 

What had the white shadow in the Doorway said? _Better luck next time?_ As though it knew Zuko would come back and try again, would meet it again and maybe have the right answer to that question this time. 

_All that power, all that control._ _And what will you do with it?_

Zuko thinks that this time he knows. 

He stands up and pushes Azula’s armor off the circle she had drawn, changing a few of the symbols in it with quick movements of his hand in the blood. 

“Zuko?” Sokka asks, as all their friends and family gather around him. “What are you-”

Zuko leans forward and kisses him. When he pulls back, Sokka looks a bit dazed. 

“I love you,” Zuka says, painfully honest. Toph snorts and Ty Lee coos. Sokka’s brows just draw together in confusion. “When this is all over and I’m back, marry me?”

 _“What?”_ Sokka splutters, even as Zuko steps back into the circle. “Wait, what do you mean when you get back? Where are you _going? Zuko!”_

“Take a good look everyone,” Zuko says, cracking his neck. “Because I’m never going to be able to do this again. I’m getting my sister back.” Then he claps his hands together in the last act of alchemy he’s ever going to perform. 

And promptly disappears. 

* * *

The Beyond is so bright and white. Zuko’s eyes hurt just to look around. But he doesn’t feel ill or awful this time. And he remembers so much this time. Maybe that’s the privilege of making the same mistake twice. 

He turns and his door is behind him, the object that holds all of his alchemical power. There’s a tree of life with alchemical symbols and secrets growing from it organically. When he looks across the way, he can’t see Azula. But he got used to how her soul feels, so close to his. She’s here, that much he knows. 

There’s a whoosh of air and Zuko turns again. 

There’s a black ball, quivering before a lifted, bright white dais that practically melts into the whiteness all around. The little black ball has one big, red eye. It shivers before the dais. Sitting at the top of it, as though atop a throne, is that white shadow. It’s vaguely humanoid, and now, vaguely familiar. It’s face only has a mouth, full of glowing, white teeth that are always bared. 

“What did I do wrong?” the black, tarry ball wails. “I just wanted to be free! Free! To have power and control - everything. I wanted to be human! Why are you punishing me?” The white shadow waves an appendage - an arm, maybe - and the little black ball is swept up in that whoosh of air. It squeals and tries to get away, but the breeze drags it back. A doorway appears, dark and menacing, with millions of shadow tendrils reminiscent of Pride’s shadow arms, and they sweep the black ball up. The doors close behind them, chains appearing on the outside before the whole thing fades away into nothing. 

“Do you know why Father failed?” the white shadow asks, pointing to where the door had just been.”Father failed because he was blind - he had a chance to see what being Alive and Real and Human was about and dashed it all away by separating himself from the ugly things that make us human.” Zuko swallows, thinking of each homunculus, a piece of Father broken off into its own consciousness, but forever bound to one type of nature. Just pieces of himself that Father didn’t want to deal with. But they were also the _human_ parts. 

“But they’re part of the whole _experience_ of life and give us a chance to experience the good emotions too,” the white shadow continues, tone contemplative and not at all like it had just sent some sort of being to suffer and be punished in its own worst nightmare of being trapped for all eternity. Then it looks at Zuko. And it smiles. “And why are you here? Back again?”

“Are you God?” Zuko asks, despite himself. He knows he’s here for Azula, but he’ll never get another chance to ask, not while he’s still alive. 

“Hmmm,” the shadow says. It shrugs. “Yes. That’s one word you have for me. So simple a word. And yet, so wrong. The Truth. That’s another one.” It bares those teeth. It’s only now that Zuko realizes this should be taken as a threat. “Answer my question. You’re back. Did you fail this time? Like Father did? He tried to tame me, you know. But you did the same, thinking you could take a piece of me.” It kicks and Zuko realizes that it still has his leg. “So I took a piece of you! Ha! I took _you_ .” Zuko swallows. All things considered, he got off easy for messing with something like this. The white shadow points. “And I took your sister. I even took your mother, in a fashion - as I take all things, eventually.” That bit hurts. But Zuko stays quiet, lets the thing talk it out. “What,” it continues, getting louder the longer Zuko’s silence stretches on for, “you think _one_ mere human can discover all the mysteries of me, can untie the master-knot of human fate and come away with that knowledge unscathed?”

Ah, there’s the rub. Because Zuko used to think that the answer to that was _yes_ , that humans could do anything they put their minds to. And sure, maybe they can. But that doesn’t mean they _should._ That doesn’t mean that that knowledge should be worth the sacrifice of everything it means to be human, to be alive. Power isn’t worth that, and people shouldn't treat it like it is. There are things that are out of human reach and should stay that way, if only to respect human life and humanity as a whole.

Zuko sighs, “Actually, no.”

The shadow freezes, stops. That smile grows wider. “Oh? Tell me more.”

“I didn’t come here for knowledge or power, or even to bring someone who’s already gone back.” Zuko’s throat closes up as he fights tears. “I came back for something I left behind a while ago. Something I shouldn’t have. I came here for my sister.”

“Oh did you?” it says, kicking Zuko’s leg back and forth as it thinks. 

“Yes,” Zuko says. “I got my arm back, and you got her soul, just like before. We switched them back. So I want her back - _all of her_. I want to leave here with my sister, with her body and her soul merged with it.”

“So, what will you give me for all of her?” the shadow asks. “Equivalent exchange, remember? That’s the only reason you got your arm back. What, to you, is worth a life? _Her_ life?” 

Zuko swallows hard. But despite the gravity and difficulty of the decision, can’t bring himself to regret it. Zuko points to his own alchemy door of power behind him. 

“You can have it,” Zuko says. He figures it's appropriate. It was all due to his want of more, of thinking alchemy could fix everything, that he lost his sister. Alchemy isn’t infallible. And neither is Zuko. 

The white shadow’s smile gets wide. “Your alchemy?” it asks, only a hint of surprise in its voice. “You’ll never be able to use it again. You’ll be powerless.”

But will he be? Zuko thinks of his friends, of his sister and Uncle. _Of Sokka_. He could never be powerless, not when he has the people he loves around him. Even without his alchemy, he really has all that he needs, doesn’t he? Zuko can live with that. 

“I don’t need it,” Zuko says, and he means every word. “There’s more to life and happiness than having this kind of knowledge and power.”

The white shadow’s smile disappears for a moment and everything is eerily silent. And then, it cackles, that smile going wider than ever before, those teeth perfect, and straight, reminiscent of tomb stones lined up side by side. 

“You did it!” the shadow crows. “You beat me! That was the right answer. And the knot is unraveled!”

The white shadow disappears, taking Zuko’s leg and his Doorway with it. The last thing to go is its smile. Zuko hopes that doesn’t haunt his dreams for too long. Before him, Azula’s door appears, the carvings in the front organized and labeled, all the alchemy scrawled across it with a purpose. 

Standing before it is Azula. Just as she should be. 

Her body is frail, skin and bones, skin paper white and just as thin. Her hair is thinning and brittle, and there are bags under her eyes. But those eyes. They burn with a fire that Zuko recognizes. That’s his sister. 

“I knew you could figure it out, Zuzu,” Azula says. Her voice matches her age, finally. She’s no longer the little girl who haunted Zuko’s dreams, her body disappearing into nothingness. 

“Well, yeah, duh,” Zuko says, taking off his tattered coat and wrapping it around Azula’s shoulders. “I’m your big brother.”

“Oh shut up,” Azula says, eyes shining. “Let’s get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, turning them toward Azula’s door. “You missed it, but we have a wedding to go to.”

“Oh?” Azula asks as the large doors open and they start walking through. “Whose?”

Zuko grins wide. _“Mine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey you. Yeah, _you._
> 
> Thanks for coming out.


	7. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day is bright, the wind is cool, and the birds sing in the trees.
> 
> Our heroes get their happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well y'all thanks for the ride! This is the last chapter. 
> 
> Again, I'd like to thank my artist, [ragdollnetic](https://ragdollnetic.tumblr.com/), and my beta, [hilsplusterrorss](https://hilplusterrorss.tumblr.com/). Also the [Zukka Big Bang blog](https://zukkabigbang.tumblr.com/). These folks were amazing. Go to the blog and check out the amazing works that people churned out for this event. 
> 
> Did I cry a little finally writing this? Absolutely. And it was only _a little bit_ in relief that it was finally fucking done and _mostly_ in bittersweet sadness that the tale was over. 
> 
> To everyone who kept up with posting in real time, I really appreciate you. You're my MVPs. 
> 
> For the final time, let us go onward!!!

_ Three Years Later… _

“Oh, wait, wait, wait! Baby, no-no,” Zuko coos, unfurling Izumi’s chubby, little hand from his hair. It’s shorter now than it’s been in years - a shag, like Master Jeong Jeong’s, that stops just below his ears - but that means it’s still long enough for her to grasp and pull. She’s at that age - god, she’s going to be a year old in the next few months. Zuko tries not to think about it; just the thought of their daughter growing up brings tears to his eyes and far more distress than it probably should. “Izumi,” he mutters, finally getting the strands free. He kisses the center of her palm, then stands her up on the bed to give her a once over.

She shoves her hand into her mouth, and drools, letting Zuko hold her up. She’s in a little, green, linen dress that Zuko knows is going to get dirty in the first ten minutes of Katara and Aang’s wedding ceremony. He sighs. Oh well. They brought a whole pack of clothes for her when they left the shop in Rush Valley and came back to Resembool for the wedding. 

“Papa is gonna laugh at me,” Zuko tells her. He sits her down on the guest bedroom bed and smooths out her hair, a dark, brown wisp on the top of her head. Izumi looks up at him and giggles, smiling up at him with a few teeth showing. Zuko feels his chest constrict and he picks her up, so glad to have both his arms again, to have them be stronger now and able to hold her like this. He cradles her close and breathes her baby scent in. “I love you so much,” he murmurs against the soft, downy hair at her head. And then,  _ “Ow!” _ She’s got a chunk of  _ his  _ hair in her pudgy fist again and giggles as she  _ yanks _ , her amber eyes glowing with delight. Zuko really hopes she grows out of this phase sooner rather than later.

“Really, babe?” Sokka says as he walks in, Momo on his heels. The shepherd dog is completely brown and has an automail leg courtesy of Sokka. He can’t really herd sheep anymore like he’d been bred to do out in Resembool when they first got him, but he does a great job at herding Izumi away from any sharp corners when she’s crawling around the house and shop in Rush Valley, and that’s enough for them. “Our infant is  _ beating  _ you? What happened to the strong alchemist I know?” Sokka teases. 

“No more alchemy, remember?” Zuko laughs as Sokka helps get Izumi’s hand out of his hair. “Thank goodness,” Zuko mutters. He never realized how much of a relief it would be. Granted the first year had been hard, but he’d married Sokka so soon after losing his alchemical abilities and then they’d moved to Rush Valley and opened the shop the year after that, so they’d been occupied. This past year had been dominated for the most part by Izumi, so he doesn’t feel the loss like he thinks he might have otherwise.

“Aw, baby-girl, hands out of Daddy’s hair,” Sokka chuckles. “You need to pull it back, babe,” he says to Zuko, gesturing to his own pulled back at the top of his head. Zuko snorts. No way - that’s why he’d cut his hair short in the first place. It was so much less of a hassle now that he didn’t have to tie it back. 

By their feet, Momo whines, barking softly to get their attention. Izumi looks down and giggles at him, waving her hands. Sokka grins deviously and scoops the dog up, lifting his panting face to the baby’s. She squeals in excitement until Momo starts to lick her. Then she turns her face to Zuko’s chest, hiding against her father’s shirt. 

“Get the dog  _ out _ of the baby’s face please,” Zuko sighs, even as Sokka laughs and looks at him with the utmost fondness. He married this man and sometimes it hits Zuko so hard he goes breathless. They have a home and a family - a  _ life _ together. 

“Alright, alright,” Sokka says, snuggling Momo before letting the dog down. He scampers out of the room, barking down the hallways of the Imiq’s house. Sokka leans over and presses a kiss to Izumi’s head, then presses one to Zuko’s mouth. They stand there, close together, their daughter safe between the two of them, and just  _ exist _ for a blissful moment. Zuko will never, ever tire of moments like this. He treasures them, regardless of how often they happen these days, because there had been a time when they hadn’t. It’s blissful. 

And then. 

“Hey! I left the week after my coronation for this!” Toph yells, stomping down the hall. “I  _ will _ be watching - hearing, feeling,  _ whatever _ \- Twinkle Toes and Sweet Cheeks get married, so let’s go! Where’s the maid of honor?”

Zuko sighs. He loves Toph to death but she  _ did _ just ruin their moment. 

“She’s gonna hold the whole Empress of Xing thing over our heads forever, isn’t she?” Sokka sighs, grinning despite that. 

“Yep,” Zuko says, popping the ‘p’. 

A moment later, they hear Suki follow Toph up with, “Has anyone seen my girlfriend? She’s taller than me by two inches, can kill you with a look, and is  _ beautiful!” _

“And the maid of honor!” Toph throws in. “Azula!” she yells at the top of her lungs. Zuko and Sokka cringe at the same time, then share a look of fondness. Sokka rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, how about I take the baby and you go find your sister so that  _ my  _ sister can get married?” he suggests. Zuko has a good idea where Azula has run off to. At this rate, if she doesn’t show up, Katara will start the wedding without her. He has no doubt about that. Zuko passes Izumi over to Sokka, who immediately starts making faces at her and bouncing her around. Their daughter laughs in delight.

“If she throws up on your shirt, you don’t have time to change into a new one,” Zuko says, straightening the collar of his husband’s blue dress shirt. Sokka rolls his eyes. 

“Thanks, dear. I know,” he drones, but he still kisses Zuko’s cheek as he leaves the room. “By the way, Zuko?” Zuko turns and hums in response. “Loving the red, sweetheart,” Sokka says, winking as he goes. “Let’s go see Auntie Katara, how about that Mimii?” Sokka natters on to the baby. Zuko shakes his head, a fond smile on his face and readjusts the red shirt his husband loves so much on him. His dress pants are a bit tight around his automail leg, but he’ll get used to it. Besides, he’ll only have to wear this for the afternoon. He can survive. 

He’s survived much worse, after all. 

Zuko makes his way down a back hall and staircase, heading for the backdoor. He can hear Bato and Hakoda, busy fawning over Katara, making sure her mother’s wedding dress is just right and fits her well, both men in tears every few minutes. They’d cried just as much when Sokka and Zuko had gotten married. He passes where they’re all gathered in the kitchen, Sokka having joined his parents and sister with Izumi. 

“The Fuhrer is at my wedding,” Zuko hears Katara gloat. Zuko snorts - after all, it’s just Uncle Iroh, having come down from Central to watch those he considered family finally tie the knot. Zuko is so glad he’s no longer with the military as a state alchemist. He’d be trying not to laugh every time someone announced the new Fuhrer was coming just to have his uncle wander in. What was left of Father’s philosopher’s stone heart had healed the man’s eyes and it wasn’t long before he’d been selected as the new Fuhrer. He’s definitely doing good, and Zuko is more than content to watch it happen from the sidelines. “Fuhrer Iroh wasn’t even at  _ your _ wedding, Sokka,” Katara continues. 

“Yes, he was!” Sokka squawks as Zuko slips by the kitchen via a different hall. “He just wasn’t Fuhrer yet!” Katara must make a face at him, because Sokka makes another affronted nose and says, “That’s it, give me back my daughter. I’m getting my husband and going back to Rush Valley!”

“You can go,” Katara snorts. “Just leave my niece.”

“Katara stop moving, your ceremonial waist belt is getting tangled,” Bato sighs. “Hakoda can you -  _ again?” _

“She’s our baby and she’s getting married!” Hakoda sobs and Zuko smothers a laugh as he finally reaches the back door and slips outside. 

It’s been a fulfilling few years. With the country making reparations to the Nomads under Fuhrer Iroh’s direction, things are starting to look up. Aang gets a seat at the table to the changes being made, along with a council of Nomadic elders from all over Amestris. Piandao has taken the Southern Command general post graciously, with Jeong Jeong holding down the fort at the butcher shop, content with his role as the unassuming house spouse. Ming Yao has succeeded Iroh at Eastern Command as general, refusing to leave the military after the Promised Day since Iroh was staying. Bumi and Pakku had returned to their posts in the West and North. Sozin had wandered off into the desert that separated Amestris from Xing, fully human and ready to let the arid landscape take him like it had taken his lover, Roku, before him. And Zuko had run off to start a life with Sokka. 

Azula, on the other hand… 

Zuko heads up to the hill behind the Imiq’s house. The ruins of their old home are still there, overgrown in the summer season with tall grass and wildflowers. The other day, they had left a bouquet of jasmine on their mother’s grave. Today, Zuko had a feeling Azula might come up here to get away from it all. 

The past few years, Azula has been gathering as much information about alchemy and alkahestry as possible, researching how what happened to them had been possible in the first place, how they’d lost everything, lost some more, and then actually gained some of it back. It’s something beyond equivalent exchange - giving a piece of yourself willinging and gaining something extra from it. A few months ago, her studies led her to Xing, which had been  _ very _ convenient for her budding and ongoing relationship with Suki. She’d gotten to see Toph’s coronation in person last week, and then had headed down to Resembool with the new Empress of Xing and her bodyguard, in time for her friends’ wedding in which she was playing a supporting role. 

She’s told Zuko before, written to him about it too, that she sometimes stops and stares at the sun on her skin, still pale but not the way it had been when they had first rescued her body from the white Beyond. Sometimes she doesn’t want the sun to go down so she can bask in its warmth. Other times, she’s so excited at the prospect of getting sleepy and being able to collapse in bed beside Suki for a good night’s rest. It had been the first thing she’d done when they’d gotten her back to Resembool the first time after the Promised Day - well,  _ after  _ she’d stuffed her face with Katara’s homemade bread, so the second thing she’d done, really. But she’d passed out on the couch in the family room, in a food coma, in complete and utter bliss. 

Even now, sitting in the grass, the sun highlighting the natural red streaks in her black hair, making her eyes shine like gold, she seems to be soaking in every ray of sunshine that hits her skin. 

She’s sitting leaned back in the grass, getting her peach colored dress dirty. Zuko knows that neither Azula or Katara will care, but Bato and Hakoda are going to have a heart attack and stroke at the same time if they see her like this. Still, just the sight of his sister, with a body and breath in her lungs and blood is enough to make Zuko pause and just watch. Just for a moment. 

Zuko will never, ever tire of moments like this. 

“I know you’re there, Zuzu,” Azula says, not bothering to look over at him. She strokes a hand down the stone marker, starting to grow lichen, that marks whatever it was they called up from the beyond that day almost a decade ago now. 

Zuko huffs a laugh. “C’mon, then. Your best friend is getting married.”

“Right,” Azula says, voice soft. A breeze blows through, rustling her hair. When she stands, she’s taller than Zuko by an inch, and Zuko complains that her hair’s volume just gives her the extra height, but they both know he’s never going to be as tall as her with his automail leg in the way.

“And your girlfriend is looking for you everywhere and complimenting you endlessly,” Zuko adds, just to hear Azula laugh. She does, and he savors it, loud and brash, even though based on looks alone, one would think the sound would come out soft and tinkling. But her laugh fits her style - rough and larger than life, but still so talented. His sister is still one of the best fighters he knows and an  _ amazing _ alchemist to boot. It helps that she still doesn’t need a transmutation circle. 

“Of course she is - have you  _ met _ me, Zuko?” Azula snorts. She’s still staring at the marker. 

_ Let it go _ \- if Zuko’s told her once, he’s told her a million times.  _ Just let it go _ . Let it all go to rest. It’s done. She has her body, he has his arm and it’ll do. He doesn’t need anything else. He has a husband and daughter, friends who care for them, family that loves them. He has his sister and she has her brother. What more could they want?

“We did okay, didn’t we?” Zuko says, suddenly, on a whim. He thinks they did. He gave up so much for exactly this and every day he thanks whatever’s really out there that he had been smart enough to make this decision. 

Azula finally turns. Her smile is wide and bright, those eyes matching Zuko’s in their color, if not their intensity. 

“Yes. I believe we did do alright.” She stands, dusting the dress off as she curses under her breath. Zuko laughs and offers her his hand. She takes it and together they stand on the hill. It feels so good to let go and then wrap an arm around his sister’s shoulders, to look down the hill with her. The breeze makes her dress and his shirt flutter, getting their hair in their eyes and caught in their mouths, the sun beating down warmly behind them on their backs. Zuko feels like he could cry and fights the tears that start to blur his vision.

Below the hill, a large area is set up in the Imiq’s yard, wooden benches set up and being decorated with flowers by Ty Lee as she scampers across the tops of them. Uncle is laughing with Piandao and Jeong Jeong, his security detail calmly sitting a few benches back. Aang is by an arch of wildflowers in the front, entertaining some of the Nomad kids with a marble trick as they wait for the ceremony to start and he tries to belie his nervousness for his own wedding. He’s wrapped in ochre robes for the ceremony, passed down to him from the other monks, with a wooden necklace carved with symbols of their supreme deity and their four elemental gods. Toph has made her way outside and starts a game of rock throwing with the kids, stealing their attention away from Aang. Empress of a large country or not, she’d never pass up a moment to have fun. Suki lets her be, completely at ease among their group. 

And why shouldn’t she be, Zuko thinks? They had all fought and bled and almost died - permanently, that is - together. No one was going to harm her Empress, not here. 

Suki turns, shielding her eyes from the sun and then exclaims something Zuko can’t hear, pointing up the hill. She runs to someone and Zuko can just make out Mai seating guests as they arrive from in town and out of town, the Imiq’s extended family, friends, and Nomads from other groups attending as well. Mai turns to Suki and follows the line of her hand. Zuko wonders if maybe it had been a mistake letting Mai be in charge of running things during the wedding. Sure she’s the most organized of the lot of them and had set things up for  _ Zuko’s _ wedding and probably would for Azula’s wedding when it came to it, but man is she  _ unforgiving _ when people step out of her itinerary. 

Like Zuko and Azula are doing right now. 

Zuko spies Mai and Suki heading over to the hill, probably to yell at them to come down. He sighs to Azula and she laughs in his face, because she can and it  _ is _ a bit funny. Right as Mai and Suki get to the bottom of the hill, Sokka comes out from the back door of his parents’ house, Izumi in his arms and Momo tangled up by his feet. He catches sight of them and waves, starting to make his way over. 

“Come  _ on _ , you two!” Mai yells as she gets closer. “Hurry up! We have a wedding to start!” Suki cackles with laughter beside her and Zuko can see Sokka rolling his eyes at them all. Izumi waves her little arms and Momo barks. 

Zuko’s heart swells so much his chest hurts. He is full of so much love. 

He offers his sister his hand, the one she sacrificed herself for to get back for him. 

“Shall we?” he asks her. She rolls her eyes, but takes his hand and starts dragging him down the hill. 

“Yes, let’s,” she says. 

And so they go. 


End file.
